


Feathers and Freckles

by AnchorsOutAtSea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Because I Have No Idea What I'm Doing With My Life, Blasphemy, Bonding, Brief Mention of Suicide, Dean Winchester is SO bisexual, Destiel-The Ship That Sails Itself, Drug Use, Falling In Love, False Declarations of "No Homo", First Kiss, First Time, Gay Panic, Hashtags From Hell, Headcanon, Headcanon galore, Healing, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mild Discussion of Rape (NOT between Dean and Cas), Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, OTP Feels, Original Mythology, Past Torture, Post Human Castiel, Romance, Sacrifice, Schmoop, Sexual Content, Shipper!Sam, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Subtext, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People, Wing Kink, You Can't Spell Subtext Without S-E-X
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-17 12:25:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5869423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnchorsOutAtSea/pseuds/AnchorsOutAtSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there's one thing all of his years on earth have taught Dean Winchester, it's that hunters are <i>never</i> allowed to have a good, sure thing, despite how much they may deserve it. Now Dean not only has Sam in his life to worry about, but a dorky angel in a trench coat that he's afraid of losing too. </p><p>If there's one thing the last couple of years on earth have taught Castiel, it's how to <i>feel</i>, an exhilarating and equally terrifying sensation that he never thought an angel would be capable of. These emotions only grew stronger during his stint as a human, and now that Cas is an angel again, hes trying to learn to comprehend and control how he feels in multiple aspects of his life. </p><p>If there's one thing that Dean and Cas have in common, it's not knowing how to deal with their feelings, or pursue a good thing when it's right in front of them. </p><p> </p><p>  <b>This fic is on hiatus until I finish my Cockles fic. </b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Evil Doesn't Take a Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is entirely canon compliant, excluding Dean taking the Mark of Cain and Cas is still able to teleport because he didn't have his grace when the angels fell, preserving his wings.   
> Dean was able to use the First Blade because he's the Righteous Man, and he was able to kill Abaddon with it. Instead of using the Book of the Damned to remove the Mark of Cain, Sam was trying to close the gates of Hell using it (with the help of Charlie, Rowena, and Cas) behind Dean's back. Charlie ends up getting killed by the Stynes when they find out that she had the book and decoded it. Rowena tricked Sam, Cas, and Charlie, and when she finally performs the spell, it allowed her to escape, but without the book. Sam and Dean do in fact track the Stynes down and rip them limb from limb, avenging Charlie's death and stopping them from using the Book of the Damned. This fic takes place a few months later.
> 
> If you're interested, you can find my tumblr [here](http://anchorsoutatsea.tumblr.com//)!  
> 

“I’m burning, I’m burning, I’m burning for you.” Dean sang along to the Blue Oyster Cult song that blared from the Impala’s speakers. He had the windows down as he looked over the car for the third time that day. Baby was clean enough to eat off of, but Dean was so _bored_. He and Sam hadn’t had a case in a little over a week, and the lack of something to do had Dean’s skin crawling. There was _always_ a case, even if it was on the other side of the country. 

At first it had been nice. Dean and Sam never really had time to relax, and being able to kick back and watch Netflix and do nothing in particular had been a nice change of pace… for a while. After about the third day, Dean was losing his mind. His fingers were itching to curl around a gun, or a knife, or _anything_ that could gank a creature that went bump in the night.

And so here he was. Giving Baby a once over once again. He noticed a little smudge that he had missed on her grill, and dipped the sponge in the sudsy bucket to try and scrub it off. He sighed, wiping away the last of it. He had half a mind to take Baby down a dusty road just to have an excuse to have something else to clean… but he couldn’t do that to her. He took the hose and washed away the bubbles, quickly towel drying the small area to avoid streaks. He circled the Impala one last time before nodding to himself, rolling up her windows, and heading back inside the bunker.

Dean opened the fridge, grabbing a beer. He sat down, kicking his feet up on the kitchen table, trying to think of something else to do. Sam had taken one of the Men of Letters cars and went on a shopping trip to stock up on food and supplies that they already had plenty of. Dean wasn't dumb. Sam had left because even after killing each and every one of the Stynes, things were still a little awkward between them from time to time. Dean's mind began to wander, and he couldn’t help but wonder what Cas had been up to. Things were still a little weird with Cas too, but he was starting to miss him. Occasional calls about cases weren't the same. He hadn’t heard from the angel in a few weeks, and he thought about calling him. He shimmied his phone out of his pocket, selecting Cas’ number. But then he figured that the dorky feathered guy was probably busy dealing with some sort of angel problems and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

So all that w,as left for Dean to do was more cleaning. He supposed the kitchen and living area could handle a little mopping, neither he nor Sam had mopped since they moved in. Dean finished off his beer and removed his feet from the table, standing up to find a bucket and mop. Generally, Sam was the cleaner of the two brothers. In fact, Sam chewed Dean out on numerous occasions complaining about his messy habits, complaining that the food in the fridge was growing bacteria not yet discovered by man. But something about having the bunker changed that part of Dean. Of course he always kept Baby clean, but now he found himself wanting to keep everything clean. Maybe it was the fact that he and Sam finally had a _home_ , and keeping the place messy felt tainted and disrespectful. Regardless, Dean found himself humming to himself as he kicked off his boots and filled up the soapy bucket.

Dean pulled some music up on his phone before he started mopping. The music kept him distracted, and kept him in a fairly good mood. The bunker was too quiet with no Sammy and no Cas. Listening to nothing but his own breathing and heartbeat was going to send him to the looney bin. He started in the living room first. He turned up the volume all the way on his phone and tossed in on the table, not wanting to bother looking for his headphones in his room. After a few minutes of cleaning, his mood lifted significantly. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was keeping himself busy or the shuffle on his phone was doing him proud and playing only upbeat songs, but he found himself singing along, and even dancing a little. He paused the strum at his mop that he was currently using as a makeshift guitar.  
  
  
  


To Dean’s utter dismay, both rooms only took about 20 minutes, and that was with him taking his precious time pretending to be a rock star for some imaginary crowd. He sighed, looking over his work. He decided to dump the now dirty water in the closest bathroom to avoid leaving socked footprints in the kitchen on the way to the sink.

Dean poured the water from the bucket slowly, trying to keep it from splashing up on his clothes. He had added some sort of cleaner to the mop water, and he wasn’t entirely sure if it as bleach in it. Watching the steady stream of water, he started spacing out again, really thinking about calling Cas. He wasn’t really the watch-a-movie-by-yourself kind of guy, and he knew Sam was going to stay gone for a long time. And since it would be awhile before Sam got back, maybe before calling Cas, he could look up some porn…

“Ugh!” Dean had distracted himself a little _too_ much, and since he wasn’t paying attention, a ton of water splashed right out of the sink, all over his jeans. He poured the rest of the water down the sink haphazardly, muttering every curse word he could think of under his breath. He really hoped there wasn’t bleach in the cleaner, he was wearing his favorite jeans.

Dean stripped himself of his jeans, immediately bringing them to the washer, tossing them in, and hoping for the best. He could get blood out of _anything_. He would even deal with some holes in his clothing here and there. But once something had bleach on it, it went in the trash. He was not about to be one of the douchey guys that wore acid washed jeans, even if it wasn’t intentionally.

Padding back to the living room, Dean heard “Long, Long Way from Home” by Foreigner coming from his phone. For the phone to be a cheap little burner, it had some killer speakers, and all the way down the hall he could hear every word. He found himself bellowing out the lyrics and dancing again. When he reached the living him, he put his hands on his hips, admiring how shiny the floor was. He wiggled his toes, remembering that he was in socks… in his underwear…. With a nice slick floor in front of him…

And Dean had just seen Risky Business too many times to let this golden opportunity slide through his fingers. He listened, just to make sure Sammy hadn’t pulled up without his knowing, and backed up halfway down the hallway. Foreigner had stopped playing, and now “Eye of the Tiger” was up.

“Perfect.” Dean muttered to himself. He took off running, stopping himself and sliding the moment his feet touched the living room floor. He hooted triumphantly as he skated over the entire length of the floor…until he looked up and saw that Castiel, Angel of the Lord was watching him. Dean immediately tried to stop himself and ended up losing his balance and crashing into a bookshelf. The contents of the shelf toppled on top of him, and he groaned grumpily as one of the heavy books landed on his head.

“What the hell, Cas!”

The angel was leaned against the door frame that connected the kitchen and the living room. His arms were crossed, and though his facial expression looked curious, Dean could detect the barely-there smirk on his lips. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean stood up, tossing a few books off of his lap. “Don’t you ‘hello, Dean’ me! How many times have we discussed this? Watching people is creepy! Let me know when you’re here, don’t just watch me until I notice!”

Cas rolled his eyes, like what Dean was asking him was completely absurd. Dean wondered where the angel had picked up that trait, and cursed Sam, thinking it was probably him. “What were you doing?” Cas asked curiously.

“I… I… it’s not important.” Dean stammered, feeling himself turn red. How in the hell had he not heard Cas enter the bunker?

“Is the fact that you are not wearing pants also not of import?” Cas asked in his gravelly voice.

Dean looked down, having completely forgotten about his jeans being in the washer. If his face wasn’t already red from embarrassment, he would have blushed slightly, but he reminded himself that he had nothing to worry about. Cas was like family, seeing him sliding across the room in his underwear wasn’t the worst thing he had ever seen him do. “That’s not important either. What are you doing here, Cas?”

“I think I may have a case for you and your brother.”

  
  


“Really? Wrathful, badass Angel of the Lord can’t handle a little ghost problem?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean from across the table. The two of them had decided to wait until Sam returned before discussing the case, and now that he was back, Dean couldn’t help but wonder why Cas didn’t just handle the ghost himself. They were all sitting in the room that they normally used for research.

“Of course I could. But I figured you and Sam have had a long enough break.”

“Break?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows.

The angel turned his attention on the taller brother. “Yes. You and Dean have been through quite a lot… I may have made sure that no cases reached you for a while so that you could ‘relax’ like normal humans. That is why you're just now hearing about this case.” Dean rolled his eyes at Cas’ air quotes around the word 'relax' before getting downright offended.

“Relax?! Do you know how bored we’ve been!”

“C’mon Dean, give him a break. He was just trying to be nice.” Sam muttered, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. Cas was staring at Dean blankly, and Dean was boring holes into the angel with his sharp, green eyes. Sam shifted uncomfortably at the static between them, and he wondered if they were as painfully aware of it as he was.

Sam hadn’t always noticed it. But there was a connection that the angel and hunter shared, and neither showed that connection with anyone else. Sam didn’t think too much of it. Castiel had raised Dean from perdition. He had had to take his brother’s soul and then put it back into a body that he had to recreate entirely. That was bound to give anyone that ‘profound bond’ that they shared. Sam just wished they wouldn't bicker like a married couple.

But the part that perplexed Sam the most was that he didn’t think Dean _or_ Cas noticed it. Or if they did, neither would talk about it. He had tried to ask Dean about it. There was this undying curiosity that had Sam wanting to know what it was like for Dean, to have been raised by an angel from the flames of hell, only to have that angel rebel against heaven for him. But Dean knew him too well, and anytime he tried to bring it up, before Sam could even open his mouth, Dean would be muttering about how there was no ‘chick flick’ moments, and would leave the room, before Sam could say a word.

Sam cleared his throat, interrupting the staring contest between his brother and the angel. Dean smirked and blinked. “Right. Well, what do you know about this ghost, Cas?” He said, yawning, just glad for a case.

“It’s in Quantico, Virginia, and it’s malevolent.” Cas replied simply. Dean scoffed. He hadn’t exactly expected Castiel to do research on the topic.

“Well thanks for the case, Cas. How’s heaven?” Sam asked, pushing a few stray strands of hair from his face, being the good friend that Dean was too far up his own ass to be.

The angels face fell slightly, something only Sam and Dean would have been able to pick up on from years of interacting him. “It’s… interesting. Difficult. Some of the angels want me to return but many others think I should never be allowed to enter heaven again.” Cas chose his words carefully, his eyebrows tenting in concentration.

Dean gave him a very sympathetic look, wishing he knew how to properly console Cas, even if he was kind of a dick that plotted with his brother behind his back. “Hey, buddy. You know you can always stay here.” He wished Cas would stay. As long as he was in the bunker, Dean knew he was safe.

“Thank you for the sentiment, Dean. But heaven needs me. After all I’ve done, cleaning up my mess is the least I could do.” Dean forced a smile at him, still wishing he would stay. “I’ll check in about the case.” Just like that, Cas turned on his heel and made his way to the door and out of the bunker. Dean scowled. He couldn't even flap out anymore and he still found a way to abruptly leave.

Dean took a sip from his beer and shook his head. “You get the feeling that the case is just an excuse for him to get the hell out of heaven?” He asked Sam. Sam sighed.

“If we’re being honest, yeah I do. I feel really bad for him. I can’t believe on top of everything else he’s doing, he made sure we didn’t find out about any potential cases so we had to relax. He’s one of the good guys, you know?” Sam looked thoughtful and empathetic, tugging at Dean’s heartstrings. 

“Yeah.” He said softly, chugging the rest of his beer. Dean Winchester would be damned if he didn’t make it up to his feathery friend. He would force him to come down and have a few beers or something sometime. Warrior of heaven or not, Cas deserved a break just like they had.

“I guess we should start to do some research on Quantico.” Sam huffed, pulling Dean from his thoughts.

“You research the town. I call violent deaths.”

  
  


Dean typed in ‘violent deaths in Quantico, Virginia’ into the search engine, and the news article popped up instantly. He wished Charlie was still around. He had never gotten the chance to thank her for the high speed connection she hooked the bunker up with.  
  
Apparently a local hotel had had quite a few unnatural deaths in the past few months. The deaths ranged from hangings to multiple stab wounds, but based on investigation, they were all being ruled as bizarre suicides.

“Great.” Dean muttered to himself. “I’m going to have to put on a monkey suit and deal with the cops.” He scrolled down the page, seeing if there was any more information he would need, and he noticed that all of the victims were male. He checked death records online, trying to see any deaths that happened in the same location in the past 100 years or so, but a lot of the files were locked. He groaned, knowing that probably meant more research in Quantico’s library. He really wasn’t in the mood to sift through dusty books that listed the hundreds upon hundreds of deaths. Maybe he could convince Sammy to do it while he talked with the pigs.

There wasn’t too much about the case online, the town seemed to be keeping it fairly hush-hush due to a big tourist event coming up. Dean looked up to the sound of a thick book snapping shut as Sam entered the room. “Find anything interesting?” Dean asked, closing his laptop.

“So get this, Quantico has a massive military base, and is home to an FBI academy… which means posing as feds might be a bad idea. But I couldn’t find anything supernatural about the town. It’s not really known for hauntings, or voodoo, or anything that could just awaken a malevolent spirit.”

“Well, something had to wake it up. Turns out the spirit also likes to make the deaths look like suicides, and only goes after dudes.” Sam sighed. The spirit was obviously going to be pleased seeing two more men snooping around. “Buckle up, Sammy. Looks like we’re going to Virginia.”

  
  


Dean’s fingers thrummed against the steering wheel along to Led Zeppelin while Sam’s eyes scanned over the map. They weren’t terribly far from Quantico, and Dean was starving, but he was too lost in his own thoughts to ask Sam if he wanted to pull over for a bite. They could always grab something once they were checked in to the hotel. “So what’s the hotel called again?” He glanced over at his brother, hoping for a welcome distraction.

“It’s called Briar Cliff Inn. It’s apparently the biggest hotel in Quantico, which is why I’m guessing they’re keeping the deaths so quiet. It’s where most travelers stay, I’m sure the owners aren’t too happy about the bad publicity.” Sam replied, not taking his eyes off of the map, seeming slightly disinterested in the conversation Dean was trying to make. Dean rolled his eyes. Why did they even still keep maps in the Impala? What year were they living in?

“So what are you thinking? Someone died a violent death in the hotel and decided to come back and take it out on all the dudes staying there?”

Sam looked up, huffing a frustrated sigh. “Dude… you’ve gotta start being more thorough with your research. Yeah, the spirit has been going strictly after men. But it’s not going after _all_ the men that have been staying there. This entire time I’ve been trying to figure out a motive, or at least a connection between the victims. I can’t think of anything.”

“Don’t be so moody, Sam.” Dean shot him a look before returning his eyes to the road.

“Sorry. I’m just hungry. And tired. And I can’t help but think we’re going into this case a little blind. Maybe it is suicides. It’s not uncommon for people to kill themselves in popular hotels.” Sam folded the map and tossed it up on the dash of the Impala.

“If Cas says there’s a case, there’s a case.” Dean said firmly. Sam shrugged, leaning his head against the window and staring out at the open fields to their right. “Speaking of Cas, I’m kinda worried about him, man.” Dean added slowly.

“Why?” Sam asked sleepily.

“He just hasn’t seemed like himself lately. And all that stuff that’s going on in heaven…”

“He’s an angel of the freaking Lord, Dean. If anyone is up for anything, it’s Cas. But if you’re really that worried about him, just shoot him a text or phone call from time to time. He knows how to use technology pretty well now; he would probably love that. I know...I know you're still learning to trust us again. But I'm sure he misses you.” Sam’s voice was getting more mumbled and soft, and Dean knew he was probably going to end up dozing off.

As they pulled into Quantico, the clock had just rolled over to 8:30pm. Dean had no trouble finding the Briar Cliff Inn while Sam snored in the passenger seat. He pulled Baby into the parking lot, admiring the hotel. It was clearly old, and was much larger than the cheap, run down hotels that he and Sam were used to staying in for hunts. But it only made sense to stay at the hotel that all the action was going down in.

Dean got out of the Impala, trying to shut the door quietly. He was feeling generous, and didn’t feel like dealing with Sam’s bitch-face if he woke him up just yet. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, sliding out a fraudulent credit card. Today he was ‘Timothy Melbourne’, and Timothy had impeccable credit. Despite the nice digs, he would have no problem booking a couple of nights at the Inn.

When Dean walked inside, he immediately slid the lady behind the counter his credit card. “Can I book a room with two beds for the weekend?” He asked. The lady grabbed his card, nodding and smiling warmly. Dean couldn’t help but check her out. She was quite a bit older than what he normally went for, but he could tell that she was an attractive lady, and probably even more so back in her prime. She had dark curly hair that reached her shoulders, and bounced every time she moved. Her skin was a soft caramel, causing her hazel eyes to pop. Dean smiled at her flirtatiously, maybe she could tell him something about the case. “So, do you own this place?”

“I sure do, sweetie. My husband and I do. It belonged to my parents, and their parents before them.” She smiled back, and Dean noticed her eyes checking him out up and down. Damn it felt good to be handsome.

“So Briar Cliff Inn has been around for quite a while, eh? Well you and your husband have kept the place up great.” Dean ended the conversation there. Molly (Dean had noticed her name tag) was still eye-fucking him, and her husband had finally come out of the room behind her.

“You’re just too sweet, Mr. Melbourne!” Molly’s husband shot Dean a look of pure disdain as she handed Dean two room keys. “Your room will be number 308, it’s on the third floor. If you need anything at all, just let me or Doug here know!” Dean nodded, thanking Molly, and giving her husband Doug a curt nod.

Dean slid the credit card back in his wallet, and slid his wallet back in his pocket as he made his way back to the Impala. He opened the driver’s door and tossed one of the keys at Sammy, causing him to stir awake. “Rise and shine, Sammy! We got an evil son of a bitch to kill!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are unfamiliar with my work, I always try to post pictures and/or gifs at the end of my chapters.
> 
> And since I've chose to title this fic, "Feathers and Freckles", let's appreciate Cas' "feathers".  
>   
>   
> 
> 
> And Dean's freckles.  
>   
>   
> 
> 
> It seems as though the makeup crew and Jensen's freckles go to war before every episode of Supernatural... and sometimes, the freckles win. :)


	2. Pride

Dean fought against his restraints, his ankles and wrists rubbed raw from the constant friction. Despite Alastair’s teasing, his continued to scream and fight, because that’s what he did. He fought until there was nothing left in him, he always had to, and he wasn’t going to stop now. He felt blood running down his body, surprised that he could feel its warmth because of the heat of the pit. Flames licked around him, close enough to cause his skin to sting, but not enough to burn him.

Alastair was an artist when it came to torture. He focused on psychological torture just as much as he focused on physical torture, and that’s what the flames were about. Dean’s skin may not be burning, but he was. His entire body was on fire, white-hot flames of pain striking his body while his blood splattered, painting his restraints, the table, the wall behind him. Alastair’s laugh came slicing out of the shadows and flames, almost as sharp as his razor. Every inch of Dean is open and raw, exposed to the nerve, the muscle, the bone. His soul is flayed open as he gasps his final breaths, finally relieved for it all to end… only to feel the pull and formation of molecules and cells reforming until he’s whole again, once again Alastair’s play thing… and Dean sobs, because this is the game that they’ll be stuck playing forever.

“Scream all you want.” Alastair sneered, sharpening his knife once again. “No one is coming for you. No one can save you here.”

  
  


Dean shot up in bed, his chest heaving and slick with sweat. He ran his fingers through his hair, steadying his breath and reminding himself that it had all just been a nightmare. He ripped off his sweat soaked shirt, tossing it to the floor. He heard a rustling to his right, and jumped, finding Cas staring down at him.

“Seriously, Cas?” Dean shot him an annoyed look. “I’ve told you, I’m _not_ okay with you watching me while I sleep.” He kept his voice down, glancing over at Sam who was asleep in his own bed a few feet away.

“I wasn’t.” Cas replied simply, taking a seat next to him on the edge of the bed. “You prayed to me.”

Dean ran his fingers through his hair again, and drew in his knees from under the covers, leaning over them. “Oh. I didn’t know.” He said uncertainly. Of course it made perfect sense. Alastair had always mocked him, reminding him that he was never going to be free of the pit, no one was ever going to be able to save him. But someone had. Dean looked up at Cas, slightly amazed by how his eyes were shining bright blue through the darkness of the room.

“You were dreaming…” Cas pondered, finally realizing. “What were you dreaming, Dean?” Cas tilted his head slightly, causing Dean to roll his eyes.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Cas.” Goosebumps spread over Dean’s skin at just the thought of the dream, and he pulled the covers up around him a little more, suddenly finding himself shivering.

Castiel watched him curiously, and Dean adverted his eyes, painfully aware of the fact that the angel could search his mind for the topic he refused to talk about if he really wanted to. Cas reached out, placing his hand over the barely there handprint shaped scar on Dean’s shoulder. Dean jumped a little, surprised at how warm his hand was, how tender the touch was.

“This scar has faded so much since I first raised you.” Cas muttered in his husky voice, admiring how his hand fit perfectly in place. His eyes flickered to Dean’s. “All things heal in time, Dean.” He added knowingly. Dean gulped, resisting the urge to lean into the angel’s touch. There was something so intimate about it, and regardless of how often Dean tried to come across as a total hard ass, it felt nice.

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean whispered. He wanted to continue, blurt out every single thing he was thanking Castiel for, but he stopped there. The angel smiled ever so slightly, and removed his hand, suddenly leaving Dean feeling much colder. “How’s heaven?” Dean asked, taking the opportunity to change the subject. Cas shifted on the bed uncomfortably, so Dean pushed on. “You know you can come to me if you need anything, right? And you can stay here. You can even hunt with us if you want.” _I’m worried about you._ He thought. “Sam and I might need help with the case.” It was total lie. This was more than likely going to be a basic salt and burn, having an angel on hand would be total overkill.

“You and Sam are more than capable of handling a malevolent spirit, Dean. But I’ll check in tomorrow, if you would like for me to.”

“Yeah. Do that.” Dean breathed. Cas raised his index and middle finger, placing them to Dean’s temple. “Whoa, what are you doing?” Dean asked, jerking away uncertainly.

“Making sure you rest easily tonight.” Cas shrugged, another faint smile on his lips. “No more dreams.” Dean relaxed, returning the smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but when he blinked, the angel was already gone.

 

Dean did dream that night, but none of it involved Hell. Instead it involved the sound of rustling feathers, and the sparkle of too-blue eyes.

  
  


Sam glanced over at his brother’s sleeping form that following morning, lacing up his boots quietly. He had never told Dean, and never planned to, but there were still nights when Dean woke him up while he screamed in his sleep. They had both been to Hell, and Sam was sure that he probably returned the favor just as often. They just had an unspoken agreement where they didn’t talk about it. There was no need to.

But last night, right as Sam was about to crawl out of bed and wake Dean up, he had heard Dean call out Castiel’s name. Sam had very carefully peaked througth his lashes to see Cas appear as Dean sat up in bed. Sam knew Dean would kill him for eavesdropping, but what was he supposed to do? It’s not like he could get up and leave. All Sam knew was that he was immensely thankful for the trench coat wielding celestial being, for everything. Especially making his brother's life a little more bearable. 

Sam hopped off of the bed, pulling on his jacket. He would let Dean keep sleeping for a while and go down to the lobby to grab them some coffee. He quietly opened the room door, softly shutting it behind him. Sam pulled out his phone, making sure he didn’t have any missed texts or calls and nearly ran into Molly.

He had met Molly last night as he and Dean hauled their bags up the stairs. Sam liked her. She was sweet and full of life. It was a pleasant change from dealing with his grumpy brother all of the time.

“Good morning, Molly.” He said pleasantly, politely sliding his phone back in his pocket.

“Jerry!” She responded excitedly. Sam winced slightly, remembering that Dean had insisted they use completely false names due to the FBI academy and military base in town. “I hope you and Timothy slept well?”

“Uh, yeah. We did. Thanks.” Sam tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear.

Molly bent over slightly, using her feather duster to dust off an antique clock in the hallway. “Are you and Timothy here in Quantico for the parade?”

Sam raised his eyebrows at her. He had no clue what she was talking about, but it seemed like a good excuse to grab on to in order to ask her questions about the case. “Uh, yeah, we are. How did you know?” He asked shooting her his best smile.

“Timothy just seemed to be the type is all.” Molly replied, smiling and stuffing her duster in her apron.

“Molly, do you mind if I ask you a few questions about Briar Cliff Inn?”

“Of course, dear! Ask away.”

“Uh, well, Timothy and I were a little hesitant to stay here…”

Molly frowned at him deeply, sighing and understanding immediately where Sam was going. “Those suicides are so tragic, aren’t they? I’m glad y’all decided to stay here anyway. I think quite a few people were worried that the inn might be haunted after all that. It’s so tragic…” Her eyes were beginning to tear up, and Sam gave her his most empathetic look. “I found the bodies, you know.”

“Really? I’m sure that most have been very hard for you. Are the cops certain that they’re suicides?”

“Yes, of course. The rooms were locked from the inside, and I never saw anyone else. This place is old; we only have a few cameras. But not a single one picked up on anything. It’s so sad.” She pulled a handkerchief out of her apron and dabbed her eyes. Sam put a soothing hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Molly. Listen, this must be hard. We don’t have to talk about it anymore. I was just on my way to the lobby to grab some coffee.”

“Well help yourself, dear.” She crammed the handkerchief back in a pocket and smiled at Sam warmly.

“Thanks, Molly!” He shouted over his shoulder, heading for the stairs.

  
  


“Ugh, coffee. Thank god.” Dean said, grabbing the cup out of Sam’s hand greedily. Dean was already dressed and sitting on the edge of his bed, ‘not’ watching Dr. Sexy M.D.

“Didn’t get much sleep last night?” Sam asked, hoping his voice didn’t give anything away. To his surprise, Dean smiled.

“Not at first. But I slept pretty well towards the end.” Sam stared at him, and Dean dropped his smile. “But coffee never hurts. Thanks, Sammy.”

“No problem.” Sam replied, turning his back to hide his own smile, and putting some tourist pamphlets on the small round table in the room.

“You wanna grab some breakfast?” Dean asked, standing and taking a huge gulp from his coffee.

“I thought you would never ask.” Sam laughed, picking up a pamphlet for a dinner that had delicious breakfast food all over it.

 

The diner was within walking distance to the inn, and to Dean’s complete and utter dismay Sam insisted that they should walk there. He ran his hand along Baby, muttering an apology to her as he walked by. Dean looked around. The town was nice, and quaint. But it seemed significantly busier than it has last night, and he noticed streamers and flags hanging from the poles and lamps throughout the streets. Music was also now playing over the speakers. “Well this town is very… colorful.” Dean muttered, eyeing the rainbow of colors. Suddenly Sam stopped walking, his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised. “Sammy? What’s wrong?” Dean asked, immediately stopping with him.

Sam suddenly bent over, laughing so hard that his entire huge shoulders shook, and his hair fell in his face. Dean looked at him in pure confusion, having half a mind to start searching for a hex bag. Sam stood up straight, wiping his eyes. “The parade that Molly was talking about, the one I was telling you about earlier… it’s a gay pride parade.”

“…what?” Dean stared at Sam blankly.

“Molly asked if we were here for the parade, and I had no idea what she was talking about. Based on that pride flag over there, I think it’s safe to say that it’s a gay pride parade.” Sam snickered.

“Oh son of a bitch! Dammit, Cas! Our first case in forever, and its right smack dab in the middle of rainbow land?” Dean started storming towards the diner, and Sam followed him, still chuckling. A man walked past them, clearly eye fucking Dean and he groaned loudly, making Sam start laughing all over again. “I’m glad this is real fucking funny for you, Sam. I feel like I’ve been touched inappropriately with someone’s eyes.” Sam was laughing even harder, and Dean stopped again, narrowing his eyes and setting his jaw. “Wanna tell me what’s so fucking funny?”

“Uh, Molly definitely thinks we’re here for the parade… she said that you ‘look the type’.” Sam grinned. “If you wanted to come out, you could’ve just told me, Dean. Making up a case and all seems a bit excessive.”

Dean looked like he was on the verge of strangling Sam in the middle of the street. “Shut it, Sam. I’m going to kick Cas’ feathery ass the next time I see him.” He shoved Sam out of his way, relieved that they were almost at the diner.

Dean pulled open the diner’s door with a little more force than necessary, and immediately sulked off to a booth in the corner. He sat down angrily, and Sam rolled his eyes at his pouting. “This is a good thing, Dean.” Sam said sliding in the side of the booth across from his brother.

“A good thing?” Dean asked, not bothering to hide his frustration. “How could this possibly be a good thing?”

Sam leaned forward, ignoring how disgruntled Dean was, because suddenly the case was making sense. “The spirit has been attacking men, but not _all_ of the men that are staying at the inn. What if the common ground was that all the victims were gay? It makes sense. I’m sure that some people were already here earlier on for the parade if it’s that big of a deal.”

Dean visibly relaxed over the discussion of the case. “So you’re saying we have a homophobic ghost on our hands?” Dean grabbed the menu off of the table, his eyes scanning for the greasiest and most fattening combo that the diner offered.

“Sounds like it.” Sam replied, already having his mind made up. Dean wanted to gag, Sam would probably stick to yogurt. “I’ll go check out the bodies, see if there’s anything weird going on there. You stop by the victims’ families and see if you can find out if their sexuality was really the common ground.” Sam looked up at Dean sternly. “And don’t be a dick about it.” He added.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Dean replied dismissively, flagging down a waitress to order their food. The waitress was busy, but a waiter noticed Dean and waltzed over.

“What can I get for ya, sweetie?” He said softly, giving Dean a flirtatious smile. Sam hid behind his menu so that Dean wouldn’t see him laughing. Dean just gaped at the waiter, and shook his head.

“I’ll have a number four combo with coffee, black. What do you want, Sammy?” Dean nearly growled.

“Uh, can I just get the fruit and yogurt bowl? Extra granola. And a water.” Sam choked out between his giggling.

“I’ll have that out in just a second!” The waiter exclaimed, collecting the menus then giving Dean a wink before walking off.

“Is everyone in this town gay?” Dean shook his head in disbelief, causing Sam to explode into laughter. “That’s it.” Dean snarled. “Cas, get your feathery ass down here.”

There was the sound of rustling feathers and a gust of wind that caused a few napkins to go flying, and Cas appeared next to Dean. “Hello, Dean.” He turned his attention to Sam. “Sam.”

“Hey, Cas.” Sam spit out through giggles.

Dean leaned in close to Cas, glaring at him as Cas just stared at him blankly. “Do you want to explain to me why you sent us out on a case that involves me getting hit on every time I turn around?”

Castiel tilted his head, his eyes scanning over Dean’s face. “What do you mean, Dean?”

Sam laughed again. “Dean is upset because this case is taking place in the middle of a gay pride parade, and he keeps getting hit on by dudes, Cas.” Castiel looked over at Sam, and then looked down at the able, deep in thought.

“I am completely indifferent to sexual orientation, and so I did not realize it would be a big deal. Would you like for me to deal with the spirit, Dean? I can if you're that uncomfortable.” His blue eyes flickered back to Dean, and Dean groaned and licked his lips.

“No, Cas. We’ll handle it.” He muttered, leaning back in his seat.

“So it’s not a big deal?” Cas asked curiously.

“Guess not. I’m just kinda tired of getting eye fucked by the local guys.” Dean looked over at Cas, momentarily getting lost in his eyes. _How the fuck are they so blue?_

Sam watched them interacting curiously, and was suddenly aware of how close they were sitting. Sam couldn’t see it, but he could tell their thighs were touching, and their faces were just a few inches apart. Sam furrowed his eyebrows, and tried not to laugh. No wonder people were getting the impression that Dean was gay.

The waiter came back with their food, almost dropping it when he saw Castiel. He looked over at Dean who refused to meet his eyes, and Sam picked up on the guy blushing bright red. Sam almost started laughing again, realizing that the waiter thought that Cas and Dean were _together_.

“Uh I’m sorry… I didn’t realize that someone else was coming.” The waiter managed, sitting the food down quickly. “Can I get you something?” He asked Cas.

“No thank you.” Cas replied politely, and the waiter scurried off without another word.

Sam went to open his mouth, but Dean interrupted him. “Not a fucking word, Sam.” Dean shifted, putting a few inches between him and the angel. “So, after this I’ll go talk to the victims’ families. How many do we got?”

“Three as of right now. Hopefully we’ll figure out who the spirit is before that body count goes up.” Sam replied, mixing the granola and fruit in his yogurt. “This case seems simple enough. Once we identify the body and salt and burn it, we shouldn’t have any more issues.”

Dean grunted in response. He grabbed a piece of his toast, slathering jelly on it. Castiel abruptly raised his hand, dipping his index finger into the jelly. Dean froze, staring at him. Cas brought the finger to his mouth, slowly sucking the jelly off of it, and making a face. Dean exhaled, realizing he had been holding his breath, and watched as the angel sucked his finger clean.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Sam, and he narrowed his eyes at his brother even though Dean wasn’t paying any attention to him. Dean always had a staring problem when it came to Cas.

“I thought you said it all tastes like molecules.” Dean muttered hoarsely.

Cas leaned in to dip his finger into the jelly again, the inches that Dean had put between them now gone. And Dean was painfully aware of it. Any time Cas touched him, it was almost like a shock of static went through his body. He licked his lips, once again watching the angel lick and suck the jelly from his finger. Dean’s breath caught, and he cleared his throat. “It does taste like molecules.” Cas finally replied sadly. “But one of the things I miss about being human in the taste of food. I'm hoping if I keep trying it, I will become accustomed to it. Gabriel did and is quite fond of sweets. I suppose he had to adjust to it.” Dean cleared his throat again, shaking his head.

“Yeah, well if you want jelly, just ask for it. Stop molesting my toast.” He muttered, taking a bite out of it. He could feel Cas’ thigh pressing against his again, and a part of him wanted to move so that they were no longer touching. But he didn’t, because if he was being honest with himself, the contact felt nice. _Dear god, I need to get laid. This is pathetic regardless of how full Cas' lips are and how warm his body is._

Dean half expected Cas to flutter out of the diner after that, but he stayed, ordering a coffee the next time the waiter came by.  
  
“You have jelly on your face.” Dean informed him, smirking. Castiel just stared at him blankly. Dean sighed. “Generally people wipe their face when they have something on it.” Cas wiped his mouth, but completely missing the jelly. _I wonder what he would do if I licked it off… whoa, whoa, whoa! That is not appropriate. What the fuck, brain. This parade is going to fucking get to me._ So what? Dean had inappropriate thoughts about other dudes on _very_ rare occasions. That didn't make him gay. He was pretty sure there was probably some dude that hung out with Sigmund Freud that would agree with him on that. Dean turned his attention to Sam. “What if it’s a witch?”

“Why would it be a witch?” Sam asked, taking a bite of his breakfast.

“I’m not feeling like myself. Could be a curse. Just seems witchy.” Dean said, his voice matter of fact.

Sam watched his brother suspiciously. “Yeah… I’m sure it’s a witch, Dean…”  
  
  
  


Dean threw a couple of bills down on the dining table and chugged the rest of his now cold coffee. He glanced over at Cas, who was watching him carefully.

“Alright, so I guess we should go back to the inn and change into our monkey suits so people don’t wonder why we’re poking around asking questions.” Dean said, shoving his wallet into his coat pocket.

Sam nodded in argreement, standing up as Dean stood up, and realizing how sad Cas looked. He bit his lip, deciding to just wing it. “Hey, Cas… if you’re not too busy with heaven, why don’t you help us with the case? I’m not exactly sure how much you can help, but I’m sure it would be a great distraction if you need one.” Castiel looked up at him with wide, blue eyes, and then looked over at Dean.

“Yeah, buddy. You can help me question the families if you want. It can be pretty boring doing it by myself.” Dean said, patting him on the back as he stood up.

“Okay, Dean, I’ll stay.” Cas said, that too familiar barely-there smile dancing across his lips. Dean’s face lit up, and Sam smiled at the two of them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shoulder touch between Dean and Cas has always been something that has come across as intimate to me, and so I definitely had to include it in this fic. I mean just look at this gif.  
>   
> Just look at that for a second. Do you know what episode that's from? That's from the THIRD episode they're in together. They had only been in three episodes together, and had already ripped my heart out and had me shipping them, when I promised myself I wasn't going to ship anyone on the show. BUT LOOK AT HOW THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER.
> 
> I've always liked the idea of Dean calling out to Cas in his sleep because of nightmares.Not just because angels watch over people.  
> 
> 
> And of course I have to have a gif of Dean stuffing his face, because of the diner scene.  
> 
> 
> And the look that Sam gives him for his strange behavior...  
> 


	3. Guilt, Clarity, and Love

Castiel was distractedly flipping through television channels as Sam and Dean changed into their suits. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, and his eyebrows furrowed as he rested on Jerry Springer, seeming to be immediately taken by this particular episode of trash tv. Dean watched him as he buttoned up his shirt, curious as to what could possibly being going through that messy head of his.

But as Dean watched Cas, Sam was watching Dean, unable to hide the smile on his face. Sam has no idea what was going on between his brother and the angel. In fact, he wasn’t even sure what the nature of it was. But there was obviously some untouched topic that the two of them. Sam had noticed it for years.

Sam knew Dean well enough to know that when there was something on the older brother’s mind, it would eat away at him until he finally grabbed the bull by the horns. And Dean was obviously worried about Cas, and worried that Cas felt the need to go through all of his problems alone. Sam was hoping that maybe, just maybe, if Dean would actually bring all of this up to the angel, then everything could go back to normal, and this weird air between them would settle.

Dean finally took his eyes off of Cas long enough to draw his attention to tying his tie. “You know the drill, Sammy. If any feds get suspicious, if anyone starts asking too many questions, get the hell outta dodge. I think we should be okay, but I’m not risking anything. Steer clear of the FBI academy at all costs, regardless of where any information points.” He said, sliding on his jacket. Sam just nodded, sliding on his own jacket, and making sure his fake ID was in its pocket.  
  
  
  


The bodies were still being held at the police department, which was within walking distance of Briar Cliff Inn. Sam had decided to walk to the police department, giving Dean and Cas some alone time in hopes that Dean would actually talk to Cas about his worries. He knew that it was still a shot in the dark with Dean being the emotionally constipated hunter that he was. But Sam was still going to keep his fingers crossed.

Sam said his goodbyes to the angel and his brother. “Let’s meet back at the hotel at around six, deal?” He stated as he headed for the door. Dean grumbled a response while Cas’ eyes stayed glued to the television screen.

Cas stared out the window of the Impala. Though it was late in the year and the outside air was chilly, it was a beautiful day, and he couldn’t help but admire how the light caught on the fields next to the strip of road that he and Dean cruised down. The first victim had lived outside of town with his family, and it was taking Dean longer than he had anticipated in order to get to their house. Cas was quiet, his mind working even faster than the car he was sitting in. He should be in heaven right now. Even though the angels had fallen, Castiel and his followers had managed to find a way back in. It had taken many grueling hours and hard work and dedication, but being able to get back to heaven while all the angels had broken wings was still a huge improvement. Even though some of the angels gave him full recognition for being able to find the way back into the holy land, Cas still felt like he owed them so much more, and a bad feeling was spreading from in his core. He furrowed his eyebrows as his stared out the window, trying to place the emotion.

But then the sound of Dean’s humming filled his ears, snapping him away from his thoughts of heaven. He didn’t turn to the hunter, but he did tilt his head slightly, listening to the sound. Dean’s humming was a little off, but it was still relaxing and pleasant, and Cas felt a smile tug at his lips. He was glad to be here with Dean, despite all of his concerns and worries.

“You’ve been quiet.” Dean observed, making Cas realize that Dean had been watching him.

“I’ve just been thinking, Dean.” Cas sighed, turning his attention to the hunter. The sunlight was illuminating the car at the perfect angle, catching Dean’s eyes and causing them to shine bright green. Cas smiled again. His father had made innumerable variations of the color green, but the color of Dean’s eyes was one of his favorites.

“Yeah? About what?” Dean asked, staring at Cas for a moment before returning his eyes to the road in front of them.

“Heaven.” Cas stated, shrugging slightly.

“Oh.” Dean’s voice was a little disappointed. He knew that Cas spent most of his time worrying about heaven, and he really wished that the angel could at least relax a bit when he wasn’t there.

“I am… having mixed feelings.” Cas finally added.

“Oh? You wanna elaborate on that, buddy?” Dean was suddenly a lot more interested in what Cas had to say. It always fascinated him when the angel mentioned feelings and emotions because he remembered when Cas was once incapable of experiencing such things.

Castiel shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, causing his trench coat to rustle. Dean smirked. That was both one of the most annoying and comforting sounds to grace his ears nowadays. “I’m glad I’m here with you.” Cas finally said, looking back out the window. Dean smiled. _I’m glad you’re here with me too, Cas._ Cas sighed, looking back at Dean and continuing. “But… I feel like I shouldn’t be. I shouldn’t be able to enjoy spending time with you when I owe so much to the other angels, owe so much to heaven. That should be my number one priority. I feel…”

“Guilty?” Dean suggested.

“Yes. That.”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty, Cas. You’re allowed to enjoy yourself from time to time, even if you’ve screwed up. We’ve all screwed up. You’re no exception just because you got wings.” Dean glanced over at Cas, and the angel didn’t look convinced in the least bit. He sighed deeply. “Listen…Sammy will always be my number one priority. But I still enjoy being with you. I don’t have to feel guilty just because I’m with you and not him right now. And you’ve done enough for the angels and heaven. Hell, you’ve done more than your own father.” Cas shot dean a narrow eyed look because of his borderline blasphemy. Dean smiled back at him sheepishly. “C’mon, Cas. Don’t worry about heaven right now.”

“I’ve missed you.” Cas replied, smiling. Because that was one emotion that Cas had completely figured out. He knew that he _missed_ Dean when they were apart for too long. “Thank you, Dean.”

“For what?” Dean asked, puzzled but returning his eyes to the road. He had started to swerve, his eyes resting on Cas’ smile a little too long.

“For being my clarity. I am… still becoming accustomed to certain emotions. I know what they are but don't always know how they feel. But you? You’re the epitome of emotion, of humanity. And I can always count on you to be my clarity.”

Dean snorted, but he was fighting the pleased smile threatening to spread across his lips.

Mrs. Brayden dabbed the tears from her eyes as she talked about her son Adam. It was times like this that Dean wished Sam were here. He had mastered being the empathetic one in their duo, and Dean had no idea how to properly console her. At least he was trying, when Dean looked over at Cas, the angel had his head tilted and was just staring at her in confusion. They were sitting on the couch opposite of her in her living room, watching as she grabbed one tissue after another from the tissue box on the coffee table separating them.

“Adam was such a good boy. I don’t understand why he would have done this to himself.” Mrs. Brayden sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I mean, he and his boyfriend had broken up recently-“ Dean flinched at the word ‘boyfriend’ and Cas shot him an annoyed look “-but he wasn’t very upset about it. He was the one that ended things.”

“Mrs. Brayden, did your son have any enemies? Was there anyone that might want to hurt him?” Dean asked.

“What? The cops said it was a suicide.” Mrs. Brayden narrowed her eyes at Dean suspiciously.

Dean shot her his best, most empathetic smile. “We just want to explore all of our options here. We don’t want to leave any stone left unturned.”

“No, Adam was loved by everyone. Of course there were the occasional people that didn’t agree with his, uh, ‘lifestyle-“ _Yeah, like a homophobic ghost._ Dean thought. “-but he didn’t have any enemies.”

“Why was your son staying at Briar Cliff Inn?” Cas suddenly asked. Dean turned to look at him, the angel seemed generally curious and Dean was a little proud because he hadn’t even thought about asking the question. He was already emotionally drained and ready to head back to the hotel.

“Adam was a volunteer for the gay pride parade that’s starting tomorrow. He was really excited about finally getting off the waiting list and being able to help the cause, especially since he’s so young.” Dean glanced down at his notes and frowned deeply. The kid had only been 19. “He decided to stay at the hotel since it’s practically in the middle of the festival. It was easier than having to drive back and forth all weekend. The pride parade is a very big deal in this town, especially since this is the south. It was the first town in Virginia to hold a parade. People come from all over the state. Adam signed in a few days early to help set up the streamers and flags… he was just so happy…” Mrs. Brayden started crying again, and Cas’ eyes were wide, having no clue how to respond.

Dean stood up, and Cas mimicked him. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Brayden. We’re so sorry to hear about your loss. We’ll be in touch as soon as we know something.” Dean attempted sweetly, reaching his hand out to her. She shook his hand and he flinched and made a face, realizing her hand was wet. He wasn’t sure if it was from tears or snot, and when he looked up, Cas was smirking at him.

 

“Well that was awkward.” Dean said, slamming the Impala door as soon as both he and Cas were inside.

“I don’t think so. She was just upset about losing her son, Dean.”

“That’s not why it was awkward.” Dean replied, shaking his head and starting the car. He saw Cas tilt his head out of the corner of his eyes.

“What made it awkward then?” The angel asked curiously.

“Never...never mind.” Dean said, looking anywhere but at Cas as he felt his cheeks turn red. He didn’t exactly have a problem with gay people, it just wasn’t his cup of tea, regardless of the inappropriate thoughts that sometimes snaked their way into his mind. And he knew that for a fact because there was that one time… Dean shook his head. He wasn’t going to think about that right now, not with a mind reading angel in his car next to him. Even if Cas has said multiple times that he didn't listen in on people's thoughts anymore.

“Are you uncomfortable because all the victims are gay?” Cas asked the question so innocently. It wasn’t in the way that Sam would have asked it. It wasn’t teasing in the least bit, and when Dean looked up to see wide, interested blue eyes, he found himself replying in spite of his will not to as he pulled out of the driveway.

“A little, I guess. It’s not that gay people make me uncomfortable. It’s just… I don’t fucking know, Cas.” The angel observed Dean quietly.

“It shouldn’t bother you. The parts of the bible referring to homosexuality being a sin were added by man. King James to be specific. They’re not the words of God.” Dean’s skin was crawling in discomfort. “God only focuses on consent and love.” Dean looked over, watching Cas’ lips form the word ‘love’ and he shuddered. The stupid angel had more impressive lips than any woman he had ever seen, and he wondered how God figured that was fair when he made Jimmy Novak. Dean turned on the radio, relieved to find Boston on the radio to drown out both Cas and his own thoughts.

The next victim’s family wasn’t at home when Dean and Cas arrived, so after a moment of frustration over the wasted gas, Dean was driving them to the third and final victim’s home. On the way, Dean remembered that Thanksgiving was right around the corner. He frowned. It must be twice as hard for the families with their loved ones dying so close to the holidays. If hunting permitted it, maybe he and Sam could have a little Thanksgiving dinner and invite their friends, or what was left of them, over. And Thanksgiving meant _pie_. He glanced over at Cas out of the corner of his eye. He hoped that the angel really could get used to the taste of human food, because he was really missing out when it came to pie.

“Hey, Cas, how do you feel about Thanksgiving?” Dean asked, turning the radio down. Castiel tented his eyebrows, thinking for a moment.

“The true story behind Thanksgiving is very unfortunate. I like that humans participate in tradition, though the traditions often lose their meaning over time. It seems to make them happy.”

Dean slid his hands over the steering wheel uncertainly. “And what about you? Would it make you happy to participate in some, um, traditions?” Dean gulped.

“Are you trying to ask me something, Dean?” Cas asked, his big, blue eyes searching Dean’s.

“I was thinking… I was thinking if Sam and I didn’t have a case on Thanksgiving, we could get a few people together. I mean, I know you don’t really eat but-“

“I would love to celebrate Thanksgiving with you, Dean.” Cas interrupted, causing Dean to breathe a sigh of relief.

Dean smiled. “Awesome. Well, uh, I think this is the right house.” He changed the subject as they pulled into the driveway, grasping at the opportunity to change the subject that he had brought up. Cas leaned forward, looking through the windshield. “You should wear your seatbelt.” Dean growled.

Cas rolled his eyes. “I’m an angel. You seem to keep forgetting that.” Dean just shook his head, putting the car in park.

“Alright, angel. Well, let’s go interrogate…” Dean looked down at his notes. “Mr. Anderson’s… husband.”

 

Cyrus Anderson was even more beat up about his husband’s death than Mrs. Brayden was about her son’s death. With every question that Dean asked, he would only get a few words reply before Cyrus would be a sobbing mess all over again. _Jesus fucking Christ, I wish Sammy was here to deal with this shit._ All they had been able to get out of him was that Sean was staying at the inn because they had gotten into a huge fight. Dean was growing increasingly more and more frustrated and uncomfortable, and Cas was picking up on it. Dean shot him a pitiful look, hoping that the angel had been around humanity long enough to handle this situation.

“You seem to… be having a hard time answering our questions, Mr. Anderson.” Cas tried. “Why don’t you just tell us about your husband, Sean?”

Dean watched as Cyrus took a deep breath. When he realized he was going to be questioning Sean’s late husband, he didn’t know what he was expecting. Maybe a pink house with rainbow colored furniture? Maybe he expected Cyrus to be wearing booty shorts and a crop top. He couldn’t help but think of any and all gay stereotypes that his brain could come up with. But it wasn’t like that at all. Cyrus, their house, everything was incredibly…normal. They had a nice home that looked just like any other home he had ever been in. _Actually, it is different. This is one of the first houses I’ve been in that **feels** like a home. You can tell that Cyrus and Sean put love into the place that they lived. _

And Dean should probably be listening to what Cyrus was saying, but he couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that Cyrus didn’t _look_ gay. Under different circumstances, Dean would have never assumed that he was. In fact, Dean had half a mind to ask him what sort of gel he used in his hair, because despite his hysteria, his hair stayed in place perfectly. Dean bit his lip, mentally shaking his thoughts away and trying to focus on what Cyrus was saying. He was expecting Cyrus to spew out the same crap that every loved one did under these circumstances, but when he saw Cyrus suddenly smile through his tears, he knew this was going to be a little different.

“Sean was…. He was perfect. Not in a way without flaws… he was just perfect for me. Everyone always talks about being lost before meeting their soulmate, but that wasn’t me. It was when I met Sean that I was lost. He turned my life upside down. I never expected to fall in love with him, he was just this dorky guy that stopped in at the store I worked at from time to time. But there was something about the way he smiled, it drew me in. Before I knew it, Sean was all I knew. Everything I owned smelled of him. Everything I did reminded me of him. When I was going through a rough part in my life, he was the reason I woke up every morning. He saw me at my worst and still thought I was the best. He just… he meant everything to me. He was always willing to give up everything for me.” Dean shifted uncomfortably on Cyrus’ couch, knowing there was a reason why that last sentence sounded so familiar to him. “Listen guys, I know you’re here to help. It’s just… this is all still too fresh for me. I haven’t even been able to sleep in our bedroom since Sean died. And I have no idea why he would’ve killed himself, he seemed as happy as I was. It was just a little fight... I…I just can’t talk about his death right now. It’s too hard.” Cyrus’ lip trembled and teared finally overflowed, running down his cheeks.

And suddenly, that empathetic kick that Dean wished he had earlier kicked in. “It’s okay, Mr. Anderson.” He reached in his jacket pocket, pulling out his fake business card and handing it to him. “We’re actually staying in town. If you can think of anything that might help with Sean’s case, don’t hesitate to give us a call, okay?” Cyrus nodded. He looked from Dean to Cas, and then back at Dean.

“I’m going to sound like such a cliché… but if either of you are in love, don’t take it for granted. Hold on to it. And never go to sleep angry. Sean was so angry with me, and I was so angry with him that he couldn’t even sleep on the couch. I was angry as he was leaving that I accused him of staying at the inn in order to hook up with someone else… and all of this feels like it’s my fault. I can’t believe accusing him of cheating was the last thing I ever said to him…” Cyrus was standing now, his entire body shaking. Dean stood up, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

“None of this was your fault, Cyrus.” He knew he should be remaining professional, and still referring to him as ‘Mr. Anderson’, but Dean would be damned if he didn’t feel absolutely horrible for the guy. He looked over at Cas. Between Cas and Sam, Dean knew exactly what it felt like to lose someone and blame yourself for it. “Just contact us if you need anything, okay?”

 

Dean and Cas said their goodbyes, and exited Cyrus’ and Sean’s home, their hearts feeling a lot heavier than they had this morning. When they got to the Impala, Dean immediately reached for the door, but Cas sort of stood there awkwardly, staring at the car before him.

“You okay, Cas?” Dean asked, worried.

“Yes… Cyrus really loved Sean, didn’t he?” The angel’s voice was incredibly somber.

Dean leaned against the Impala, folding his arms on the hood, thinking for a moment. “Yeah, man. I think they both really loved each other.”

Castiel’s eyes left the car, suddenly piercing directly into Dean’s own. “I hope you’re able to love someone like that someday, Dean.”

Dean licked his lips and nodded. He hoped so too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys in their suits... yes. Just yes.
> 
>   
>   
> Here's an added bonus, because the only thing better than Dean in a suit, is Dean taking OFF the suit. *heart eyes*  
> 
> 
> I also refuse to apologize for how cute it is when Dean and Cas are on a case with each other.  
>   
> 
> 
> Another added bonus! Dean admiring Cas' lips isn't something I just randomly came up with. I've actually noticed it a lot on the show. In this gif he isn't exactly looking at Cas' lips, but it's the closest I could find for the time being.  
>   
> 


	4. Can You Show Me Where It Hurts?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is titled after Pink Floyd lyrics, and yes there is a reason for that.
> 
> Please pay attention to the tags for this fic. There is at _least_ one topic in this chapter that could potential trigger someone.  
>  I should have probably warned you guys that this fic is going to be NOTHING like anything else I've ever written. It's going to be dark. Dean is very damaged. Yes, later on, there is going to be lots of fluff that will probably give you diabetes, and lots of smut that will have you feeling like you need to go to confessional. But it's going to be so much more than that, and honestly, I can understand perfectly if you choose to stop reading after this chapter because of the direction I've taken it. 
> 
> If you choose to continue reading, just know that I'm replacing the gifs/pictures at this with an important note instead. It's going to explain why I've chosen a particular head canon for this fic. 
> 
> For those of you who continue to read this fic, thank you. And as always, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Dean lied in his bed at Briar Cliff Inn that night, wide awake. Sam was snoring not that far from him, the only noise filling the room. Dean turned, trying to get more comfortable. It didn’t matter what position he was in; his thoughts were keeping him much too alert to sleep. He looked over at Sam’s bed, admiring how soundly he slept. Light from the vacancy sign was peeking through the blinds of the room’s window, cascading over his sleeping form. Sam’s chest heaved up and down slowly as he slept in peace, and Dean smiled. _At least Sammy’s getting some sleep._ Dean rolled over. The hunter couldn’t stop thinking about what Cas said earlier, about hoping that one day he was able to love someone like Sean and Cyrus had loved each other. What had he meant by that?

The conversation had been playing over and over again in his head for well over an hour, and Dean was slowly but surely beginning to beat himself up over it. Castiel probably hadn’t meant a damn thing by it, and he was obsessing over it like a teenage girl. And _why does it even matter?_ Because it shouldn’t. The more Dean thought about it, the more insecure he began to feel. _I shouldn’t be obsessing over another dude period. I’m no fucking fairy._ Dean wasn’t gay. He just _wasn’t._

Sometimes he noticed guys were attractive, but there was more to being gay, right?

Without meaning to, his mind began to wander to what it had tried to go to earlier in the car with Cas. He _knew_ he wasn’t gay, and he knew it from experience. But thinking about that could have led to Cas reading his mind, which could lead to him accidentally mentioning it to Sammy, which meant Dean would have to explain… and Dean wasn’t about to explain to his brother what went down when he had gone off to Stanford.

 

A lot of things happened when Sam went off to college, and Dean couldn’t think of a single one that he was proud of. If he was being completely honest, Sam leaving had destroyed him, and almost destroyed the relationship Dean had with his father. Dean would always love his dad. Despite being a drunk, sometimes abusive asshole, the man still did the best he could when he could. And Dean would always be forever grateful for that. But when Sam had left, the drunkenness was more than just occasional. They had tried to hunt together in Sam’s absence at first. But Sam was the glue that held the remainder of their family together. Once Sam was out of the picture, Dean and John’s relationship had become more and more strained every day. At first, they had tried to pretend like everything was fine, that they could function without Sam. They continued to try to hunt together like they would have if Sam was still there. But it rapidly became apparent that they were both taking the loss harder than they wanted to let on. John began drinking more and more, and eventually started blaming Dean for Sam’s sudden decision to give up hunting, and that was the last straw. Dean had missed Sam so god damn much, and Dean was _not_ about to allow his father to make it hurt even worse by trying to put the blame on him.

And so Dean left. He could still hear his father drunkenly slur “So you’re going to leave to? You’re going to abandon me just like your brother?” The words still stung, even worse than the black eye John had given him. But he told himself that his father was just hurting, and that mixed with Jack Daniels created a very irate, very aggressive John Winchester. It took John over two weeks to pick up when Dean called, and he had called every single day without fail. Their conversations were short, but with Sam and Dean both gone, John was only left with his thoughts, and they eventually developed a mutual understanding and checked in on each other regularly.

But Dean didn’t handle any of it as well as he should have. He missed Sam. He missed his dad. He missed hunting with them, and missed the strange, fucked up life they had created since mom had died. Hotel rooms had never been so lonely. It wasn’t the same without Sam’s snoring and the low hum of the television that John kept on as he flipped through his journal over and over, hoping he had missed some clue about the yellow eyed demon. And so Dean, refusing to have any chick flick moments, did the only thing he knew how to do, he shoved his feelings down and tried to bury them.

At first, he had tried to bury them in women. That worked out great at first, in fact it was fan-fucking-tastic. Dean was an attractive guy, and charming on top of that. He never had to take home a chick that was less than a seven, regardless of how tipsy he was or how rough he looked from the latest hunt. But none of them dulled the ache or eased the loneliness that felt like coursed through his very soul. He had had a great time, and had stories of sex that would probably put a porn star to shame, but their bodies couldn’t warm the cold of how lonely he really was. So Dean turned to other methods.

Turning to alcohol as a solution had disgusted Dean at first, and only reminded him of the man that John had often become. He would get drunk a couple of times a week, especially after a really lonely night, or a particularly gruesome hunt. But a couple of nights turned into almost every night. And it wasn’t drunk like before, now the women were pushing him away, usually making snide comments about how he was probably too wasted to even get it up. What they didn’t know was that he wasn’t too drunk to get it up, and a guy named Daniel proved that one night.

Dean remembered Daniel well, almost too well, despite his inebriated state. Dean had been shot down six times that night, and he was growing increasingly frustrated. Even though his stomach was full of beer and liquor, he still felt painfully empty, and he had been hoping that maybe being drunk _and_ burying himself balls deep in some broad was the perfect balance he needed. But none of the girls were interested in a guy so shit faced that he was one sway away from falling off of his barstool. That was when Daniel came into play. He had noticed the guy earlier. He had been sitting by himself in a corner, playing on his phone and babysitting a beer. But suddenly, he was sitting next to Dean at the bar. Dean smelled him before he saw him. Daniel was wearing some sort of expensive cologne, and Dean would be damned if he said it didn’t smell absolutely amazing. When the drunken hunter spun his barstool to face him and ask about the cologne, Daniel had had to catch him because he nearly fell out of his seat. The man grinned as Dean apologized and introduced himself, revealing sparkling white teeth that stood out brilliantly against his tanned skin. His eyes were a deep amber, incredibly similar to the color of the drink in Dean’s glass. So what if Dean was so drunk he couldn’t help but notice the guy was pretty good looking?

The rest of that night had been a bit of a blur. Well, Dean always tried to convince himself it was a blur. He was sure that if he tried to remember hard enough, he would be able to remember the entire night in detail. But he didn’t _want_ to. It made him feel ashamed, and the kind of filthy that a shower couldn’t wash off. He had flirted with Daniel with little to no shame, because in his drunken stupor, all he could focus on was that Daniel was sexy, despite what was going on between his legs. Daniel just had that sort of sex appeal that Dean always tried to aim for himself, there was something classically charming about him. He had the kind of smile that made people melt. And he had melted Dean into a puddle.

It wasn’t long before Dean found himself stumbling to the Impala, dragging Daniel behind him. He had almost chickened out, and settled for lighting up a cigarette and offering his companion one while he mentally told himself to slow down and think about what he was doing. He didn’t normally smoke, only when he had a few too many drinks and the drag relaxed him. Many hunters smoked, bad habits seemed to gravitate towards the job. But it seemed stupid for Dean to pick up a habit that could make running difficult when he literally found himself running for his life on some cases. And yet here he was, sharing a smoke underneath a buzzing lamppost, leaned against his car and drowning in the intensity of Daniel’s amber colored eyes.

He never ended up finishing his cigarette, and Daniel never ended up finishing his. Instead, he ended up in the backseat of the Impala with his dick in Daniel’s mouth, his hands fisted in the other man’s dark, curly hair.

 

A particular loud snore from Sam jarred Dean from his thoughts. He felt sick to his stomach, and angrily flopped from his side to his back. He tried to avoid the memory of Daniel at all costs, because _he wasn’t gay_. He had just gotten too drunk and fell for the other man’s charm. He shuddered, remembering how the next day he had scrubbed the backseat of the Impala like someone had spilled a bright red slushie all over it. If only he had been able to scrub the memory from his brain.

Dean just wished that he could _sleep_. He looked over at the cheap digital clock on the nightstand separating his bed from his brother’s. He idly wondered if some sort of demon or nymph or fairy cursed the early hours of the morning, and that’s why his thoughts always went to such dark memories. He bit his lip and whimpered slightly, trying to force the worst memory back in the closet of his mind.

Because things had gotten much, much worse with Sam and his dad gone. Much worse than drinking, smoking, random hookups and letting some guy blow him in the parking lot of a bar. He had done things that brought tidal waves of shame washing over him, things he could never let Sammy know about. It’s not that Sam would judge him. Hell, as much as he loved his brother, he still knew that he was the last person to ever have the right to judge someone. It wasn’t about that. If Sam knew about his past, he would know what a hypocrite Dean had been, he would know just how truly awful his brother was. And Sam looked up to him. He had admitted it himself, on more than one occasion. Sometimes Dean caught Sam looking at him with so much love and admiration that it made Dean’s chest feel tight. Sam had had faith in him when no one else had. Dean didn’t think he could take the hit of Sam no longer looking at him like he was actually worth something.

Dean had half a mind to call Cas down in hopes of distracting himself. But he tried to do that as little as possible. He wasn’t sure what condition the angel’s mojo was in, and now he felt guilty because he hadn’t taken the time to ask. “Fuck.” Dean muttered, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. He guessed he was just going to spend half the night thinking about Cas, and the other half making himself feel like shit. But there was this strange pull he was feeling inside his mind, that maybe all of this was what he needed. He had spent so much time trying to push these thoughts and emotions down, that maybe his brain was sick of the shit and wanted him to finally figure it all out. Dean began to grit his teeth, took a deep breath, and finally let the memory he was avoiding seep into his mind.

 

Hooking up with Daniel caused Dean to freak out, more than he had ever freaked out in his entire life. He blamed it on the alcohol. Blamed it on young age (even though he was in his mid-twenties) and stupid decisions. But the next day when he woke up in the back of the Impala, hungover and exhausted, it didn’t matter how he attempted to rationalize it, it still happened. He had fucked around with a guy. And he _liked_ it. He ended up stumbling out of his car to throw up, not sure if it was because of the hungover or the disgust he felt towards himself.

It's not that Dean thought that two dudes fooling around was wrong. It was just one more thing that was too heavy for him to deal with.

Dean planned on walking right back into the bar and getting piss drunk all over again, but unfortunately, it was still too early. But Dean needed _something_. He missed Sam. He missed his father. He had seen things that other people couldn’t even imagine in their worst nightmares. And everything hurt. Dean collapsed against his car, every part of his body aching. Before his brain ever registered any of it, he was back behind the wheel of baby and driving. He wasn’t sure _where_ he was driving at first, he just knew that he needed to. He took roads that he had never been down, but the names were somehow familiar. After almost two hours of driving, he realized why the names of the roads were ringing a bell. He was on the way to Stanford.

Dean whipped Baby onto the gravel shoulder of the road he was on, wincing when he heard rocks kick up against her paint. He had never been to Stanford before, but the moment Sam had left, he spent hours poured over a map, etching every possible route there into his mind. Because what if something happened to Sammy, and he needed to get there fast?

Dean put the Impala in park, running his hands over the steering wheel nervously. He could just call Sam, showing up might be a little…much. But would Sam even pick up? If he did, would he even want to talk to Dean? If he didn’t, did that mean he was in trouble? He could just pop in, just to make sure Sam was okay. He didn’t even have to say anything, didn’t even have to let Sam know that he was there… Dean was not okay, but he _needed_ to make sure his little brother was. He exhaled a sigh and put his car back into drive.

As Dean walked past a pretty brunette, he grinned at her and looked over his shoulder, his gaze following the bounce of her ass. _No wonder Sammy wanted to go to college._ It had been incredibly easy to convince the school to give him Sam’s address. In fact, it had been so easy that it downright pissed him off. Who the hell did they think they were, just giving his brother’s address out like that? Did they not realize how dangerous that could be? He had half the mind to tell Sam about it, but then he reminded himself this was a quick in and out. He was just here to make sure Sam was okay, then he was gone and back to hoping that his brother actually remembered how to pick up a damn phone and call every once in a while.

Cutting through the campus was the quickest way to get to the apartments that Sam was staying in, and Dean took his time walking through the campus, wondering if in a different life, it would have been _him_ going to school here. He couldn’t really imagine it, but then again, Dean Winchester couldn’t really imagine any life outside of hunting. Part of him was bitter that Sam had managed to, but an even bigger part of him was proud that Sam could look past all the bullshit they had been through and still managed to see a way out.

A familiar, too loud laugh jarred Dean from his fantasies of college right as he was passing a building that he was assuming was the cafeteria. He looked to his left. A couple of yards away was a sitting area with a smoker’s section, some benches, a fountain, and an obnoxious amount of shrubbery (Really? Who would spend so much time and money on bushes?), but beyond that was a building that was clearly a library. Dean froze. The laugh had been Sam’s, and he was coming out of the library, holding the door open for a cute blonde. Her curls bounced as she laughed along with Sam, looking at him like he was an absolute ray of sunshine. Dean didn’t know it at the time, but it was Jess. Dean’s eyes flew back to Sam, debating on whether or not he should hide. But Sam only had eyes for Jess, and he wasn’t going to be looking over in Dean’s direction any time soon. Dean breathed a sigh of relief, watching his brother. Sam was okay, and that’s all that mattered. But the longer Dean observed Sam, the stranger he began to feel, until finally it felt like someone had stabbed him in the gut, and had no shame in turning the knife.

Sam wasn’t just okay. Sam was _happy_. The grin that spread across his mouth as he walked and talked with Jess lit up his whole face. His gait was easy and worry free like Dean had never seen before. He had a book bag draped across one shoulder lazily in a posture he never used when it was a duffle full of guns and salt. Dean had never seen his brother so happy, and he had spent nearly every waking second with him for two decades. Dean gulped, his tongue suddenly feeling too large and cumbersome for his mouth, and his Adam’s apple bobbed almost painfully. He turned on his heel, and headed back to his car.

Maybe Dean was selfish. In fact, he knew he was selfish. Seeing Sam like that should have made him happy, it should have made him proud. Instead, it just _hurt_ , hurt too much for words. Sam was okay, and that meant the world to Dean. But how was Sam so happy _without_ him? Sam being away at Stanford was completely destroying Dean, Sam didn’t even seem to be bothered by the fact that he couldn’t even remember the last time they had spoken.

Dean shoved the thoughts and pain away as he shoved down on the gas pedal of the Impala. He knew how horribly unhealthy it was to be so codependent on people, especially when you were a hunter. You couldn’t have that kind of Achilles heel. But even with Sam at college, Dean still felt like Sam was all he had. Sure, he had his dad. But it wasn’t the same. John may have been their father, but it was Dean that had done most of Sammy’s rearing. Dean swallowed hard and blinked the stinging out of his eyes. Sam was okay and happy, and that’s all that should matter.

But as Dean drove on, the weight he felt on his shoulders only grew heavier. _Sam is okay. He’s okay and he’s happy._ He kept trying to remind his self. But Dean wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay at all, and he certainly wasn’t happy… and nothing he did made that go away.

The Impala’s gas light came on along with a couple of beeps, and Dean cursed at himself for letting her get below a quarter of a tank, nevertheless hitting ‘E’. He saw a gas station a couple of lights away, and bounced his knee impatiently when he got caught at every single one of them. He knew his car easily had a few more miles to go before he needed to worry about gas, but he felt like he was abusing her by riding around without a full tank of gas.

When he finally pulled up at pump number one, he noticed how deserted the gas station was, especially for a college town. One look at the building itself answered any questions he had. It was run down with the outside paint peeling. The parking lot was covered in cigarette butts, and a used condom even caught Dean’s eyes as he walked up to the door. Dean grimaced in disgust, but went inside anyway. Gasoline was gasoline, and he wasn’t going to keep Baby waiting any longer.

He slapped down two tens on the counter and gestured to pump one. Yeah, gas was gas. But he honestly didn’t feel like this place was worthy of getting to completely fill up the sleek, black car, so he would top her off at a place that at least seemed cleaner and more welcoming. The cashier took his money without saying a word and shoved it into his register before going back to watching the small, outdated television he kept behind the register. Dean shot him a look and stepped back outside. Now he wasn’t the only one occupying the parking lot. There was a rough looking guy about his age now leaned against the side of the building, flicking his lighter over and over again, attempting to light up a cigarette. Dean watched him a few attempts before feeling bad for him, and offered the man his own lighter.

“Thanks, man.” He grunted. The guy was scrawny. His clothes were ill fitting, his shirt so large that the collar hung around his neck, revealing prominent collarbones. His jacket was equally oversized with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He needed a shave and a shower, but he looked incredibly content, and Dean almost asked him how he managed that. Instead, he lit up a cigarette of his own, leaning against the wall. He wasn’t going anywhere near a gas tank with a cigarette at hand and Baby nearby. “You look like you’re having a great day.” The man finally offered, sarcasm sticking to every word

Dean laughed good naturedly. “Yeah… I guess you could say that. It’s just been a rough couple of months.”

“Yeah, I can tell. Same here.” The man shrugged. “I’m Ross.” He added, holding out his cigarette-free hand. Dean shook it, introducing himself.

They shared the next few minutes in silence, and Dean felt like it probably would have been awkward if Ross wouldn’t have been so relaxed and in his own little world. And that’s when it struck Dean… Ross was _high_. Feeling a little bold, and tired of the silence, Dean decided to bring it up.

“I can’t help but notice how, uh, relaxed you are.” Dean said with a smirk, taking a long drag.

Ross smirked back knowingly. “Hey, what can I say? Sometimes when life gets me down, I need a little pick me up.”

“Yeah? What’s your poison?”

“Depends on what you’re looking to buy, buddy. And depends on if you’re a cop. Are you a cop?” Ross narrowed his eyes, looking Dean up and down.

“I didn’t say I wanted to buy anything.” Dean replied sternly, narrowing his own eyes. “And just so you know, the whole thing about ‘cops can’t lie about being cops’ is a total myth. They don’t have to tell you shit.”

Ross suddenly laughed. “Well, I don’t think a cop would have fessed up to that.” He flicked his cigarette out of his hand, adding to the graveyard of filters that littered the ground. “But I’m not so sure I believe ya when you say you don’t want to buy anything.”

Dean bit his lip. This would be a good opportunity to fill up on pain meds for his first aid kit, he was running low after a particular bad case involving a werewolf a couple of weeks ago. But he had a feeling this guy was on a hell of a lot more than Vicodin. “Do you have anything for pain?” He asked carefully. He was a solid ninety-eight percent sure this guy wasn’t an undercover cop, but hunter’s instinct taught him to use caution in every decision he made.

Ross grinned knowingly. “Physical, or emotional pain?”

“Both.” The word was out of Dean’s mouth before he even realized he said it. He flicked his own cigarette on the ground, crushing it with the two of his boot and avoiding eye contact to hide just how uncomfortable he was.

Ross nodded, looking around before reaching in the inside of his loose fitting jacket. Dean almost wanted to roll his eyes at how cliché it was, the whole situation was like something out of a really shitty movie. Ross pulled his hand out of his jacket just enough to expose a little bit of what he was holding. At first, Dean thought it was a plastic bag, but then he realized that it was the plastic from a cigarette pack, burned at the top to seal it off. Inside was a very small amount of white powder.

At first Dean thought it was cocaine. Most hunters had dabbled in it when sleeping was not an option during a hunt, and could result in a very unpleasant death. But that wasn’t Dean’s thing. Having to do it was usually the result of a screw up somewhere, and if there was one thing that John had taught him, it was _don’t screw up_. Dean was about to give him the whole ‘thanks, but no thanks’ speech, thinking this dude was just trying to sell a little weed. But then he noticed the inside of Ross’ arm. He had track marks. This wasn’t even coke. It was heroin.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Dude, you got the completely wrong idea. I am NOT interested in that.” Dean shook his hands like Ross was the one that needed to calm down, and took a step back.

To Dean’s complete shock, Ross actually laughed. He tucked the plastic back into his jacket. “Suit yourself, man.”

Dean suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable, and wanted nothing more than to just pump his gas and get the hell out of dodge. Ross must have sensed it, because he shifted uncomfortably himself. He abruptly mentioned having to be somewhere, and in the blink of an eye was hauling ass around the corner of the gas station. Dean sighed and shook his head. “Some people man…” He muttered, rubbing his tired eyes. When he opened them, something caught his eyes. Ross apparently hadn’t tucked his score into his jacket pocket far enough, and it had fallen to the ground in during his getaway. Dean crouched down, picking up the plastic and watching the white powder slide to the opposite corner. He went to throw it in the trashcan, what if a kid found that shit? But his hand stopped just short of the trash can lid. Heroin _was_ a painkiller. A hell of a strong one. He could just keep it in his med kit for an emergency when OxyContin and Vicodin weren’t quite strong enough. It was hard for hunters to get pain meds without a doctor to hook them up, especially since pretty much any form of identification a hunter ever has is a fake.

Dean ignored the sick feeling, ashamed feeling in his stomach as he stuffed the bag in his pocket and headed for the Impala. He popped the trunk and reach for his first aid kit. _I’m not using it. This is just an absolute last resort type of thing. There’s not a snow ball’s chance in fucking hell that I would ever use this shit._

But that night, a very drunken, very depressed Dean Winchester changed his mind. He sat in his hotel room, angry that tears were somehow falling from his eyes. It was too much. All of it was just way too much. Hunting. Sam. His dad. Losing his mom. _Everything_. He gulped and shuddered, the thought of putting his gun to his head slowly creeping into his mind. _No, fuck that._ He was Dean fucking Winchester, and he wasn’t about to quit, about to kill himself. But it hurt. Everything hurt. And he wasn’t strong enough to do it alone, wasn’t weak enough to go someone as unsympathetic as his father, and wasn’t selfish enough to pick up and call Sam. But he was drowning. And despite how much air he gasped into his lungs, it was only met by sobs that shook his entire body, and pain like he had never felt before. He could deal with concussions. Being sliced open by a werewolf or chewed on by a vampire hurt, but it was bearable. Anything hunting had to throw at him, Dean could handle. But this? This was different.

Dean didn’t really remember setting any of it up. He didn’t really remember getting the awful plastic bag or syringe and needle out of his med kit. He didn’t really remember taking his belt off to tighten it around his arm. He didn’t really remember heating up the spoon. All he remembered was drowning. All he remembered was feeling like the entire weight of the world was attempted to make his chest cave in. Then he remembered a needle in his arm. He remembered a fleeting moment of regret and hysteria fighting against the overwhelming pain and loneliness… and then nothing. He didn’t feel anything. No pain, no doubt, _nothing_.

Dean sank back onto the stiff, unpleasant hotel bed. He was numb, and it was beautiful. It was like “Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd made perfect sense. His mind wasn’t racing with a million negative thoughts, his eyes were no longer leaking tears, his chest no longer heaved, gasping in air that didn’t seem to help at all. Dean felt warm, and euphoric, and completely relaxed for the first time since he was a child. Maybe for the first time _ever_. And for the first time in his entire life, Dean Winchester was okay with who he was.

 

Dean looked back over at Sam asleep peacefully on the bed next to him. He wasn’t sure when, but at some point tears had formed in his eyes and were overflowing, bouncing off the poor excuse for a pillow beneath his head. Dean’s first time doing heroin wasn’t his last. And he had still had the nerve to ride Sam’s ass about the demon blood. Now that he was thinking about it, a lot of it had to do with the fact that he hated himself for not being able to pick up any tell-tale signs of addiction from Sam that he should have noticed. He sat up, wiping his eyes. He dropped his head, his chin just barely resting against his chest. His thoughts were going dangerously close to sounding like a prayer to Castiel, and he drowned them out with Led Zeppelin lyrics. The last thing he wanted was the angel showing up while he was trying to deal with all this shit. He kicked off the scratchy bed sheets and swung his legs off the side of the bed, standing up. He had the intention of pouring himself a glass a water, but pouring whiskey into the glass felt a lot more satisfying.

Taking a few calming breaths, Dean chugged the entire glass. It burned, but helped loosen the knot in his throat a little. Suddenly, he heard a whooshing sound behind him. His heartbeat sped up, knowing immediately what it was, who it was. He turned around.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wow... so i have a ton to say, and I have no idea where to begin.  
> This chapter focuses on my own personal idea, which is Dean dealing with metaphorical demons just as much as real ones. I have yet to find a fic where Dean develops an issue with drugs. I've always wanted to write a book about the topic, but decided to add it to this fic instead, especially after noticing little things sprinkled throughout the show that point towards the fact that Dean has definitely abused drugs at one point. Now let me clarify! I'm not talking about a canon addiction at all. I'm talking about him dipping his toes here and there, and the references are almost all towards weed and pills, and they're very, very small and I just took the idea and ran with it.  
> So I guess I should explain _that_ now. The topic of drugs and addiction is something that affects me tremendously. I have seen addiction ruin more lives than I would ever like to admit. I spent a lot of time bouncing back and forth between the abuse of pills, and the abuse of heroin for Dean's drug in this fic. I ended up choosing heroin, because it is the worst god damn invention ever. I cannot even put into words how easily it traps people, how easily people have thrown their lives away because of it. The part where I mentioned that Dean felt okay with who he was for the first time is actually based off of a situation where someone I knew was doing heroin. He showed up at a party, high out it his mind, and when someone asked him why he was doing it, he replied with "I... I'm just okay with who I am for the first time. None of it bothers me anymore." And I actually planned to write a lot more on the topic, but this chapter absolutely drained me emotionally.  
>  I can understand if you guys choose not to continue reading after this chapter. Like I said, this fic is going to be dark. Of course it's not always going to be that way. It's a dark, painful, slow burn, but it will be funnier like it's previous chapters when appropriate. Smut and fluff chapters will be included when it's appropriate. I just really needed to take on a different approach with my writing for this fic.  
> But I hope it's a topic that's not to heavy for you guys, and I hope you enjoyed it. And I really wish I could remember everything I was going to write here.
> 
> (Major trigger warnings below I guess? I'm bad at this)  
> Most importantly, if you're suffering from an addiction, or know someone who is, please, please get help. Addiction isn't exclusive to drugs. I take self harm, eating disorders, addictions to people, all of it, seriously. A person can get addicted to just about anything.  
> Just please, please get help if you or someone who know needs it, okay? And my inbox is always open to people that need to reach out. If you don't want the comment to be seen by other people, my tumblr (linked on my acccount) is also open for messages.  
> Please remember you are loved and you are not alone. Please.


	5. Not Your Average Salt and Burn

Dean jumped slightly and the whiskey he had poured sloshed around in its glass. “Hey, Cas.” He rasped, his voice rougher than he attended. He was suddenly self-conscious of the fact that he was only wearing a tee shirt and boxers, and was hoping his eyes weren’t still wet and red.

The angel stared at him for a moment. He was doing his all too familiar head tilt and eye squint, and he was surveying Dean carefully. Dean felt like those eyes could see right through him, and sometimes he half expected them to turn red and literally go right through him like Superman or some shit. “Dean, I think I have found some information that could help you with your case.” He finally spoke, though he still had a strange, almost accusing look on his face.

“Oh yeah?” Dean said, trying to appear casual. He chugged the whiskey in his cup, and poured himself another glass. He brought it up to his lips, but instead handed it to Cas. To Dean’s surprise, Castiel took the glass, as he grabbed another one for himself. “You wanna elaborate on that?”

Cas took a sip from his glass, grimacing slightly at the taste. “After doing some research, I think I know who the malevolent spirit is. The owner of the establishment… Molly, I believe?” Dean nodded. “Research revealed that her mother and father owned the Inn before she did.” Dean nodded again, Sam had already told him this information but Cas seemed eager to help. “But Molly was unaware of the fact that her father was having an affair-“ Dean choked on his whiskey a little, and played it off with a cough. “-but he wasn’t having sexual relations with another woman, he was having sexual relations with a man.” Dean couldn’t even cover up the choking this time, and at the glass down all together. After hacking up the stray whiskey and half his lung, he cleared his throat.

“And I’m guessing Molly’s mom found out about the affair?” He asked, gears grinding in his head.

“Her father admitted to the affair as her mother was on her deathbed. He felt like he wouldn’t be able to deal with the guilt if she died not knowing.” Cas finished his entire glass with a single smooth swallow, leaning around Dean to abandon his glass next to Dean’s.

Dean exhaled a slow, quiet whistle. “That’s a hell of a way to bite the dust. Well, that explains what’s going on here.” Dean almost felt embarrassed. It was such a simple case, with such a simple explanation. How had he and Sammy not figured it out yet? Then again, ever since the trials and Gadreel, and the Book of the Damned, both he and Sam had been a little off. Especially when it came to working together. Things were significantly better than what they had been, but there was still some unwanted tension between the hunters. And apparently it was starting to affect their hunting. Dean shook his head and cleared his throat. “Thanks, Cas. A quick salt and burn should do it, Sammy and I will find out where Molly’s mom is buried first thing in the morning.”

“You should do it now, Dean.”

“I know.” Dean sighed. “But Sam is actually getting some sleep for once. Can it not wait a few hours? It’s almost morning, and according to our own research, the spirit only attacks during the dead of night. Just let him sleep a little longer.”

The angel tilted his head slightly, his expression changing like something had just dawned on him. “You should be sleeping as well.” Dean shrugged slightly, distracting himself by pouring yet another glass of whiskey. As if wasn’t already in Dean’s personal space, Cas took a step forward. “Your eyes… they’re red. You’re upset.”

“I’m fine.” Dean replied gruffly, and probably too loud. Castiel opened his mouth to say something else, but Dean interrupted him, changing the subject. “What’s up with helping us out on the case? Thought you had angel shit to do in heaven.” Dean’s voice was a little harsher than he attended due to Cas’ observation, but he hoped he knew it was a joke.

Castiel sighed deeply, jerking the glass out of Dean’s hands and downing its contents. Dean just blinked at him. “As you would say, angels are dicks.”

Dean almost laughed at Castiel picking up on his terminology, but the solemn look on Cas’ face suddenly had him worried. “Cas… what happened?” He asked softly. He took a step toward him, ignoring his own personal space rule. They were standing much closer than most people would have been comfortable with, but Cas wasn’t a person, and something about this wasn’t sitting right with Dean.

Shaking his head, Cas handed the glass back. “Find the body as soon as you and your brother can. You may have difficulty because I couldn’t find it-“

“Talk to me, buddy.” Castiel narrowed his eyes at the interruption, but Dean didn’t care. He was clearly upset by something the winged dick heads upstairs had done, and it was already making Dean’s blood boil. Cas was one of the few good things left in this world, and Dean’s need to protect was suddenly making an appearance.

“It’s nothing, Dean.” Castiel wasn’t looking at him, and was shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. “I needed a ‘break’-“ Dean rolled his eyes at the air quotes. “-and so I decided to help you and your brother with this case.”

Dean huffed a frustrated sigh. It irritated him that Cas wouldn’t tell him what was going on, but it irritated him even more to know that he had picked that trait up from Dean himself. His eyes scanned up and down over Cas. He didn’t seem hurt, so it couldn’t be that serious.

“I’ll check in tomorrow to make sure the body is burned before someone else dies.” Before Dean could say anything else, Cas was gone. Dean ran his fingers through his short hair, his frustration building further.

“Thanks for the help!” He called out to thin air, rolling his eyes.

  
  


Dean would never admit it, but Cas had been right. He should have woken Sam up and immediately started looking for the body, because now daylight was quickly fading, and they _still_ hadn’t found any record of the body. They had been looking through death records, obituaries, even random newspaper articles about Briar Cliff Inn, and nothing was pointing them in any sort of direction.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean snarled, slamming yet another newspaper down in the library. The librarian shot him a look that could kill, but he ignored her. He rubbed his exhausted eyes, and his mind wandered to whether or not Cas’ day was going as shitty as his. Hopefully the other angels were leaving him the fuck alone, because Dean really wouldn’t mind shoving an angel blade in to something if they couldn’t find the body’s location soon.

Sam sighed, “We’re going to have to ask Molly where she’s buried, Dean. It’s almost dark. What if she attacks again tonight?”

“I know, I know. But how in the hell do we ask her where her mom is buried without seeming creepy as hell?” Dean brought his Styrofoam cup of coffee to his mouth and took a deep sip. It was cold by now, but he drank it anyway, the lack of sleep the night before was wearing him down. When he looked at Sam, his brother had both of his hands above the table. One was balled into a fist on its side, resting on the inside of his other open hand. He had a smug smirk on his face. “Oh no. No way. We’re not rock-paper-scissoring this one.” Sam laughed. Dean _always_ lost at rock-paper-scissors.

“Fine. I’ll go talk to Molly.”

“Good. Use the puppy-dog eye thing. It works every time. I think most women need to change their underwear when they see you do it.” Dean laughed when Sam scrunched up his nose in disgust.

“Let’s just hurry up and get back. It’s getting really dark out there.” Sam replied, looking out the window nervously.  
  
  
  


“Well, I found out why we couldn’t find any information about the body.” Sam said dryly as soon as he got back to the room. Dean motioned for him to continue. “She was cremated.”

“God dammit! Is it too much to ask for a simple salt and burn these days?” Dean growled in response.

“Looks like we better start scoping this place out looking for something the spirit could be tied to. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” Sam sighed grimly.

Dean grabbed his duffle bag, pulling out his shotgun with the salt rounds in it. “Let’s get this spooky bastard.”  
  
  
  


Dean exited yet another room, stepping into the hallway of the floor he was on. Darkness had fallen completely, and Dean was almost done searching his half of the inn with no luck. He hadn’t found a single item that Molly’s mother’s spirit could be tied to. He checked his phone to make sure he hadn’t somehow missed a call from Sam. He hadn’t. Apparently, Sam wasn’t having any luck either. Dean shivered, pulling his heavy, green canvas jacket tighter around himself. “Fuck…” he muttered. Cold spots. Not a good sign. A gust of wind came from behind him, causing the drapes on the hallway window. He slowly turned, knowing what caused it before he even looked. A loud cackle came from the grey, translucent figure hovering above the ground. Her hair and dress billowed out around her wildly, and she was eyeing Dean like Dean normally eyed a slice of pie. Aiming his shotgun at her, he quickly fired, but she dodged the salt round with speed he wasn’t expecting. In a blink, she was in front of him, and he took a step back, shocked by just how fast she was.

“Oh, this one is quite pretty…” She crooned. Her cold, barely-there hand caressed Dean’s face, causing him to shiver. He fumbled with his shotgun, trying to aim it at such a close range. “It’s a shame, really. You could have any girl you wanted.” Dean froze.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” If there was one thing Dean had learned in his decades of hunting, it was ‘always keep the enemy talking’. It bought time and worked as a great distraction. He titled the barrel of his gun a bit, but with a flick of her wrist, it went skidding down the hallway. _Okay, so this particular spirit is one of the stronger ones. Hurry the fuck up and find what’s anchoring her here, Sam!_

“Don’t play stupid, sweetie. I see the way you look at the dreamy blue-eyed hunk in the trench coat.” Dean blanched. “it’s absolutely disgusting. A sin. God intended for men and women to be together, not two men!”

Dean took another step back, but he was pressed up against the wall now. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You got the wrong idea, lady. It’s not like that. I’m straight. Ya hear me? Straight.”

“I thought my husband was straight too!” She hissed, shoving a ghostly hand through Dean’s chest. He yelled out in pain, an icy shock vibrating through his body. “And when I’m done with you, you’ll kill yourself, and rid the world of your filth and sin!” Dean closed his eyes, the pain too much to bare as he started choking on his own breath..

The hand suddenly withdrew from Dean’s chest as the spirit screeched. Dean opened his eyes to see the ghostly figure go up in flames. “Sam…” he croaked thankfully, knowing that Sam must have found whatever was trapping the spirit. He slid down the wall, sinking to the floor. He shook his head violently, shaking off the cold feeling that had spread over his body, and the thoughts of what the spirit had said. “I’m not gay!” he screamed at the spot that the ghost had burst into the flames. “I’m straighter than the stick that’s up Cas’ ass.” He added for good measure. _Where is Sam? I need a fucking drink._

  
  


Sitting in their room drinking whiskey just wasn’t cutting it, and Dean had convinced Sam to join him in finding a bar. There was one within walking distance to Briar Cliff, and Dean was pleased to see a couple of pool tables. They were running low on cash, and the current credit card he was using was starting to push its limit. It was time to get piss drunk and pretend like he was too drunk to play. Hustling was simple, and it would take it mind off of all the shit with the ghost earlier. Dumb bitch. Thought he was into Cas. Was she fucking crazy? Yeah Cas was awesome, but he wasn't trying to bone him.

To Dean’s shock, after a few drinks, Sam was actually the one hustling. Sam often still had his moments where he preached about a ‘honest living’, and seemed to think he was above hustling some drunk bastards at a bar. Dean watched him proudly, making his way back over to the bartender to order another beer. He took a seat on a barstool, dizziness settling over him slowly. Okay, so maybe he was just a little more drunk than he was planning to be. But today had been rough, and he certainly wasn’t thinking about some ghost that just assumed everyone liked it up the ass anymore.

Dean heard a familiar whooshing sound to his right, and looked over to find Castiel sitting on the barstool next to him, his elbows on the bar and his hands folded.

“You gotta stop doing that.” Dean said sternly. “One day someone’s gonna see you zapping around and freak out.”

“We’re at a bar, Dean. Everyone is imbibing in alcohol, completely distracted. If someone had noticed, they would have just thought they had too much to drink.” Cas answered. Dean shrugged. He honestly couldn’t argue with that logic.

“What are you doing here, Cas?”

Cas looked down, avoiding Dean’s eyes. “I wanted to congratulate you on laying the spirit to rest.” Dean stiffened, but the angel didn’t seem to notice. “And… I needed some time away from heaven.” Dean wanted to, but he didn’t press the subject. Instead, when the bartender finally made her way to him, he ordered two beers instead of one, and slid one over to Cas. Castiel thanked him gratefully, taking a long sip from the bottle.

“Well, if you need time away from heaven, you’re always welcome to hang out with me.” Dean muttered, clinking his own bottle against Cas’.

“There’s nowhere else I would rather be.” Cas replied earnestly. Dean felt heat rise to his face. Cas was always saying stupid shit like that, it made him feel weird. Dean felt someone slide onto the barstool to his left, and he turned to politely acknowledge the person. The guy nodded in greeting, waiting to order a drink.

“Get the Bud Light. They’re running a special on it tonight.” Dean offered good naturedly. The guy thanks him. He flipped his hair out of his eyes, and introduced himself. Dean didn’t quite catch his name over the loud music in the place, but didn’t bother asking him to repeat it and chose not to give his own name.

When the bartender came over to the guy, he purchased two Bud Lights and slide one over to Dean. “I know you already have a drink, but I figured you’ll eventually run out, right?” The guy laughed nervously. Dean looked at him in confusion, and then shot a glance at Cas who was observing the two of them with utter curiosity. “So what brings you here, freckles?” Dean choked on his beer. _Did he just call me freckles? Is he fucking hitting on me?_

“Listen, buddy. Don’t call me ‘freckles’, got it? How about you go find someone else to give this beer to, yeah?” Dean snapped coldly, sliding the beer back over to whatever his name was. The man looked slightly confused. Had he really taken Dean’s beer suggestion as him being interested? What the hell. When the guy got up with both beers and walked away, Dean remembered that they were in town during the gay pride parade, and internally screamed to keep himself from groaning loudly. Of course the guy had probably assumed something. Dean _was_ sitting next to nearly six foot of handsome, blue eyed angel that only had eyes for him. He shuttered and turned back to Cas. “Jesus, you can’t suggest a beer to someone these days without them thinking you want to suck their dick.”

“I don’t think he assumed you were going to give him fellatio, Dean.” Cas deadpanned.

“That not what I- Don’t call it- you know what? Never mind, Cas.”

“Do you not like your freckles?” Castiel tilted his head to the side, his blue eyes searching Dean’s green ones.

“What?”

“Your freckles. Do you not like them? You seemed angry when that gentlemen pointed them out.”

Dean felt a blush creep up his face, noticing that Cas’ eyes were jumping around his face, soaking in every freckle. “He was pointing them out as a way of flirting with me.”

“Oh.” Cas was now observing his beer bottle instead. He took a sip, then almost cautiously, spoke again. “But… do you like them?”

Dean groaned. He wasn’t drunk enough for this. “I don’t know! I’ve never really thought about it! They’re just there!” He snapped. Castiel suddenly looked very sad, and Dean wondered what the fuck was wrong him. The angel took another sip of his beer, but he looked like he was about the zap out of the bar any second.

After a short, awkward moment, he spoke again, staring at his beer and not meeting Dean’s eyes. “I spent a very long time making sure every freckle was in the right place. When I remade your body after rescuing you from perdition, I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted everything to be exactly the way it was, if not, better. I thought the hardest thing to create would be a perfect liver after all of the damage you had done to yours after years of inebriation. But it was your freckles that were the most difficult. I… if I would have known that you didn’t like them, I would not have remade them. I am sorry, Dean.”

Dean suddenly felt like the world’s biggest asshole. “No, don’t apologize, Cas… Jesus, fuck. I didn’t think ‘bout it like that. There’s nothing wrong with my freckles.” Castiel finally looked up at him, he big blue eyes still sad. Dean swore, he looked like a kicked puppy. “Really, thanks.” He reached out and put a hand on the angel’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “I like them.” He said finally, and Cas seemed to perk up immediately.

He cheerfully took another sip of his beer. “I’m glad you like them, Dean. I like them as well.”

Dean felt heat rise to his cheeks, but he couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his lips.

 

Later that night, back at Briar Cliff Inn, Dean was in the bathroom brushing his teeth while Sam snored in the next room. He spit the toothpaste out and wiped his mouth, looking up at his reflection. His eyes were immediately drawn to his freckles, and he leaned closer to the mirror to get a better look at them. He had never really paid much attention to his freckles, but they seemed to be exactly the same as they were before he got dragged into the pit. A faint smile appeared on his lips as he eyed the freckles across the bridge of his nose. Cas liked them, and had worked hard on them, and the thought of that made Dean appreciate them a little more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My kink: Castiel giving Dean compliments.  
> Seriously though, it's one of my favorite things in the entire show. Dean always tries to be dismissive and act like he doesn't care, but then every single time he gets this cute little smirk on his face, and you can tell that it means the world to him. Be still, my heart. Example:  
>   
>   
>   
>   
>   
> 
> 
> Also, it's incredibly hard to find pictures of Jensen where Dean isn't a "painted whore", but I'm forever on the prowl to get my hands on those freckles.  
>   
>  _Stop covering the freckles with makeup 2k16._
> 
> I'll try to reply back to all messages tomorrow. My inbox is really slammed after the cliffhanger in the last chapter of my Cockles fic [It Started Out With a Kiss](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5500247/chapters/12706223). I promise ya'll that I'm trying to catch up!


	6. Apple or Key Lime?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little smutty, but probably not in the way that you're thinking.

REO Speedwagon’s ‘Back on the Road Again’ played through the Impala’s speakers, and Dean was more than relieved that he and Sam were, indeed, back on the road again. Being on another hunt after their break had been a relief, but the words from the malevolent spirit were still ringing in Dean’s ears, and he just wanted to get back to the bunker, drink some beer, watch some porn, and pass out in his own memory foam bed.

Sam had been peacefully snoozing on and off for the past hour, and even though Dean was starving, he decided to let him sleep. They could eat at the bunker. Real food too, not gas station snacks or microwaved diner meals. But with Sam so quiet, Dean was left alone with his thoughts despite the music and the hum of the Impala. And no matter how hard he tried to think about something else, _anything_ else, his mind always wandered back to how the ghost seemed to think that he… _liked_ Castiel. And sure, his eyes did linger on Cas’ a little too long. He had given Cas more chances that he would give most. He did spend a lot of time with Cas. But Cas was his best _friend_ , and though he hated to admit it, Cas was right…they did share a profound bound.

But what did the dead bitch expect? Cas had _saved him from hell_. Angel or not, that’s not exactly something that just anyone would do, and it was something that Dean would always be thankful for. So yeah, maybe he _did_ look at Castiel a certain way, the spirit wasn’t wrong about that. She was just wrong in her interpretation of it. _I can’t believe she would think I was gay. And with Cas of all people. Wait, is Cas even considered a dude? Even if he wasn’t he’s not even the same **species** as me. That’s some Star Trek interspecies shit. No thank you. _

Sam stirred in the passenger seat, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “Well good morning, sunshine.” He said, flashing Sam his most obnoxious grin. Sam just rolled his eyes and stretched, yawning off his nap.

“We close to the bunker?” He mumbled, cracking his knuckles.

“Bout forty-five minutes or so away. Thank god. I’m exhausted.”

“How? You didn’t even _do_ anything on the case. I’m the one that found the object the spirit was attached to.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sammy. I wasn’t aware of the fact that getting _attacked_ by that very spirit is considered not doing anything.” Dean snapped bitterly, turning his head to glance at his brother.

“She… she attacked you? Why didn’t you say anything?” Sam’s eyebrows were raised in concern, and he was looking at Dean with those stupid puppy eyes of his.

Dean shrugged. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. As soon as she did, you burned her shit, so I was fine.” Sam relaxed a little, but he was still staring at Dean. Suddenly Sam smirked, and Dean looked back at the road. _Shit. I should not have told him that._

“And why did she attack you, Dean? I was under the impression that she only attacked a _certain kind_ of guy. I didn’t think you fit that MO.”

“I _don’t_ , Sam.” Dean damn near snarled. “She just uh, knew that we were on to her. And when I aimed my gun at her, she went crazy. Tried to get me before I could get to her.”

Sam thought about continuing to tease Dean, but he noticed his brother’s face was contorted in anger and decided against it. Sometimes Dean Winchester couldn’t take a joke. Sam decided it was better just to change the subject. “Please tell me you’re cooking something good tonight. I’m starving.”

“We got some steaks in the freezer back at the bunker. Sound good? I know it’s not rabbit food.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sounds good.” Dean turned right into a grocery store parking lot. “I thought you said we already have steaks back at the bunker…?”

“We do.” Dean replied, pulling into a parking spot and putting the Impala in park. “But we need pie.”

“You should invite Cas to dinner.” Sam stated abruptly. Dean looked up from the steaks he was cooking. Sam wasn’t looking at him, but was mixing a salad.

“What?” Dean asked, wondering why this had come out of nowhere.

Sam finally looked up at him and shrugged. “He mentioned he missed how food tasted when he was a human, and he seems pretty bummed with heaven lately. You’re fixing three steaks. With all this other food we have, did you really plan on eating two yourself?”

Dean glared at his brother. He actually _had_ been planning on eating both steaks, but inviting Cas sounded like a better idea. And it meant he would have more room for more pie. “Sure.” He finally replied. “Hey, Cas! Get your ass down here.” Sam shot him a look and Dean rolled his eyes. “Please and thank you.” He added sarcastically. Dean smiled when he heard the sound of wings and the rustle of a trench coat. He stabbed a steak and placed it on a plate, turning around and holding it out in the angel’s direction. “Hungry?” Castiel just stared at him and tilted his head. Dean rolled his eyes. “You said you wanted to get used to eating food again… So eat.”

“Jesus, Dean. You’re a terrible host.” Sam said, laughing. He grabbed the plate and piled on all of the sides so the steak wasn’t quite so lonely, and then handed it Cas. “What do you want to drink, Cas?”

The angel looked completely confused by why he had been called down, but he remained polite. “Thank you, Sam. Coffee is fine.” The angel replied, sitting down at the dining table. Dean scrunched up his nose, and sat a beer down next to Cas’ plate.

“You don’t drink coffee with a steak, Cas. That’s gross. You drink beer. Like a man.”

“But Dean, I’m not a man, I’m an a-“

“Just drink the beer, dammit.” Dean huffed, sitting down next to him. Sam didn’t comment on how when it was just the two of them, Dean made a point to sit on the other side of the table. “How’s heaven?” Dean finally asked conversationally through a mouthful of food.

Castiel didn’t reply at first, but just poked at his food. Sam laughed and handed him a knife and fork before sitting down. “I’m thinking about leaving heaven. Completely.”

Dean choked on his food. He coughed and chugged half his beer before being able to completely clear his throat. Sam shot him his best bitch face before responding to Cas. “Really? You know you can stay here, right?”

Castiel gave Sam a small, almost smile. “Thank you, Sam. But you know I do not require sleep.”

Sam shrugged. “I know. But we have the extra room. And you don’t _have_ to sleep while you’re here. You can just sorta, you know, hangout. Right, Dean?” He kicked Dean under the table because he was just staring at Cas with his mouth slightly open.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. Definitely. You can move in tonight, Cas. I can show you how to watch Netflix and everything.”

Castiel looked over at Dean, his too big, blue eyes shining gratefully. “You really wouldn’t mind? I… I have to admit; it would be a relief to have somewhere to occupy my time while I make the decision on heaven.”

“Of course, dude. You can stay here as long as you want. You can stay here forever.” The words sort of just tumbled out of his mouth, and Dean felt the color drain from his face as he realized how that sounded. He cleared his throat nervously, catching Sam smirking him with a quirked eyebrow.

Cas gave Dean one of those rare, true smiles. They almost seemed out of place on the angel’s all too serious face, but Dean couldn’t help his own smile that resulted because of it. “I suppose I could stay here.” He took a bite out of his steak, and Dean smiled even wider when he didn’t make a disgusted face.

 

After two plates of food, and a few beers, Sam told them he was calling it a night. “And don’t forget to set Cas up with a room.” He reminded Dean, stretching and waving good night. Cas looked like he was about to mention the fact that he didn’t need sleep again, but decided against it.

“So you wanna tell me why you’re thinking about ditching the holy gates?” Dean asked as soon as Sam was out of earshot. He leaned back in his chair and took a gulp of his beer, raising his eyebrows at the angel.

Castiel sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Dean smiled at how human the response was. “I still feel as though I owe a great deal to my brothers and sisters. But I... I don't think I'm very welcome in heaven. Those that want me there want me to be a leader, and I am no leader.”

“Sure you are, Cas. They all look up to you. None of them would have been able to get back into heaven without you. You’re a great leader.”

“Not by choice, Dean.” The angel dropped his eyes to his beer bottle, and started fiddling with the label. _Well I be damned. The dork has developed a nervous habit._ “That’s not all.”

“Oh?”

“The other angels… they don’t approve of the relationship I have with you.” Dean smirked and snorted at the way Cas worded the sentence, but when he finally looked up and their eyes might, Dean’s smile faltered. “They think you and your brother are bad influences, and they’re especially disproving of you. They think you cloud my judgement, and cause me to make decisions that make me less of an angel.”

Anger immediately flared up in Dean’s chest. He slammed his beer on the table. “Oh yeah? And who the hell are they to say what makes you less of an angel? You’re more of an angel than all of those dicks combined. You’re the only one who-“

“Dean. There’s no need to be upset.” Dean took a breath and just shook his head. It was time for a subject change, this was making him feel like shit. “So, you still tasting molecules or whatever?”

“It’s not quite as overwhelming as it was. When I haven't been in heaven or with you, I've been trying different meals off of the Biggerson's menu. I think you’re a good cook.” Cas pondered.

Dean laughed. “Thanks, buddy. I hope you have room for pie, because I bought apple _and_ key lime.” Cas just stared at Dean, patiently waiting as always. Dean rolled his eyes and stood up to grab two plates. He rummaged through the cabinets, but there was only one plate left and he cursed Sam for not washing his own. He knew it would only take a second to wash up another dish, but Castiel was looking at him expectantly with those _eyes_ of his, and he didn’t feel like taking the time to clean. He went over to the fridge, and after a while of trying to fit two slices of apple pie and two slices of key lime pie on the plate, he finally gave up with a frustrated groan and guessed they could share. He sat the plate in front of Cas and handed him a fork. “Be glad I like you. I don’t share my pie with just anyone.” Cas’ lips quirked up slightly.

“Dean, I could have had another plate clean in the blink of your eye.”

“Well it’s too late now. And besides, if you start using your angel mojo to clean the dishes, me and Sammy’ll get lazy and stop cleaning them ourselves.”

 

Dean was incredibly pleased to find that Cas liked not one, but _both_ pies. And he had to admit, it was kind of cute to see Cas tilt his head and concentrate on the taste after every bite. He eventually admitted to liking the apple pie better, and Dean couldn’t have been prouder. Key Lime wasn't one of his favorites, but it was on sale. Once they finished desert (Cas insisted on cleaning the dishes with his angel mojo), Dean led him down the hallway to one of the spare bedrooms. It only made sense for Cas to have the room closest to Dean.

“As you already know, this is my room.” Dean said, waving a hand at his closed bedroom door. “And you can have this one.” He added as he stopped in front of the next room down.

“Dean, I do not require a room.”

“Yeah, I know that Cas. But if you’re gonna stay here, you’re gonna have a room, alright? You need a room of your own where you can relax and kick back and uh, be alone for personal time and shit.”

“Are you referring to masturbation?”

Dean felt himself blush bright red. “Jesus Christ, Cas. We are not going to have this conversation. Just know this is your room, okay?” He quickly turned his back so that he could open the door and had an excuse to not look at Cas. “It’s not much, but it’s pretty much like all of the other rooms. You can even decorate it how you want. Just make yourself at home, yeah?” Castiel thanked him again, and Dean showed him how to work Netflix. Even though the dorky trench coat wearing celestial being was clueless in most areas, he was a quick learner and had the entire remote figured out in less than five minutes. Dean sat down on the edge of Cas’ new bed, completely impressed.

“Can I use the library?” Cas asked abruptly.

“Dude, you’re _moving in_ here now. You don’t have to ask to use anything, unless it’s something that personally belongs to me or Sam.” Cas nodded, his mouth a thin line of concentration. “You’re making me uncomfortable. You gotta relax, man. Here, gimme a sec.” Dean walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later carrying a coat rack that he had seen in the storage room of the bunker a few days ago. “Here.” He said, placing it in the corner of the room. “Now you can take off your trench coat and stupid suit jacket. You know, get comfy.” Cas hesitated for a moment, but eventually stood up and stripped himself of both jackets, hanging them both carefully.

“Better?” He asked sincerely.

“Much better. Now let’s do something about these sleeves.” Dean grabbed one of Cas’ arms and gently rolled up the sleeve of his button up. His fingers brushed against Cas’ skin, and he couldn’t get over how _warm_ his skin was. He didn’t know what it was, but he always assumed with Cas just using a vessel, the skin would be cold. He gently let go of Cas’ arm to repeat the same action on his other arm. He smiled at the angel, ignoring his face growing hot. There was just something so _intimate_ about seeing Cas not wearing a million different layers of clothes. “There you go. Isn’t that more comfortable?”

“I suppose it is.” Something softened in Cas’ eyes. “Thank you, Dean. For everything.”

“Don’t worry about it, buddy. Just let me know if you need anything, okay? I’ll be right next door.” He gave Cas a gentle pat on the shoulder before heading towards the door. He hesitated in the doorway. “G’night, Cas.” He shot the angel a final smile before closing the door behind him, and tiredly trudging towards his own bedroom. He was exhausted, but he knew he was too restless to sleep because whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was _worried_ about Castiel. Once again the angel was willing to choose him over heaven, and that drove a part of Dean completely crazy. _Has he not figured out that I’m not worth all of this shit yet?_ The hunter just shook his head. His restlessness wasn’t something that was immune to being fixed by a little while on Busty Asian Beauties website. He locked his bedroom door behind him, and quickly stripped down to his his boxers before grabbing his laptop. He flopped down on his bed, placing the laptop on his left side on the bed. He leaned over, opening his nightstand drawer and pulling out a bottle of lube. Dean Winchester wasn’t a diva about many things, but when it came to using lube versus lotion, he would be a diva every single time. Lotion dried too quickly, and sometimes he wanted to do things nice and slow because it wasn’t every day that he had ‘me’ time.

When he logged into the website, he cursed angrily. The credit card he had been using for his membership had been declined, probably canceled by its real owner. Which meant that half of the website was closed to him, and only a few videos were available. He could easily pull out one of the many fake credit cards he had, but he was already comfy and didn’t feel like getting up and digging through his jeans for his wallet, so the standard pornos were going to have to work tonight. Nothing fancy or nothing kinky.

He decided to click on a video of a chesty woman giving a blowjob. _Haven’t had one of those in a while._ Dean thought idly. Dean shoved his earbuds in before the video started. His dick had already begun to stir in interest, he was so pent up nowadays that that it didn’t take much. It’s not like he couldn’t get laid if he really wanted to, he just thought he didn’t have the energy or time to _really_ invest in it. Dean knew he was a good looking guy, and it didn’t take too many flirtatious smiles or suave winks to get a girl, but there were other factors he didn’t feel like dealing with… such as the fact that he would never bring a girl back to the bunker, and when he was on the road he was normally sharing a room with his brother.

So yeah, maybe the fact that he was craving a blowjob right now made him feel like a teenage boy. But that was what was making him hard at the moment, and that’s what he was going with. The video finally finished buffering, and Dean let out a pleased sigh when his ears filled with the sound of the female pornstar moaning generously around her costars cock. Dean freed his dick from his boxers and lubed himself up, making a loose fist around his own cock, and sliding his hand up and down agonizingly slow. He bit his lip, sighing into the feeling quietly as he watched her bob her head up and down, making obscene slurping noises that had precome leaking from his head.

A few minutes into the video, Dean’s hand picked up speed as he felt heat tightly coil from within him. But a few moments later, the video had ended, and he hadn’t come. He groaned in frustration, using his clean hand to restart the entire video. He imagined that he was the guy in the video, and it was his cock that the woman was drooling over and swallowing down. He imagined his hands fisted into her dark hair, pushing her head up and down, and a little moan escaped his lips. He was so close that he could taste it. But the video ended _again_ , and Dean still hadn’t finished. He slammed the laptop closed angrily, maybe his imagination would help him better than the video. He tried to imagine the scenario more intensely, imagined her tongue swirling around the head of his dick, teasing the slit. He was so close… his free hands curled into his bed sheets, imagining that it was her hair, but the dark hair in his mind was suddenly a lot shorter, a lot messier, and before he knew it, his mind was imagining Cas’ mouth wrapped around him, sucking with fervor. Before he could even process that he was jerking off to the thought of Castiel sucking his dick, he was coming, his toes curling and his back arching as he thrusted into his fist a few more times. He moaned as his hips twitched, come _still_ spurting from him. He collapsed back onto his memory foam mattress, his lungs heaving in air and his heart pounding against his chest. A sated smile spread across his lips as his mind swam with nothing but pleasure and relief. But the brain fog from his orgasm slowly began to lift, and a cold realization hit him.

Cas. He had come thinking about _Cas_. He grabbed some tissues from his nightstand, cleaning himself, his hand, and his boxers off. He tucked his spent cock back into his boxers. _Fuck. No, no, no, no. It was just the dark hair, right? Made my brain all confused. And I’m really worried about him, so my brain must have gotten the two things mixed up. Yeah, that’s it._ He got up to throw the tissues away, and stopped, looking in the direction of Cas’ room. He tossed the tissues in the trash and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Son of a bitch. I am _so_ fucked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean and his pie... still a better love story than Twilight.  
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> 
> Also, Dean smiling at Cas is possibly my favorite thing in the entire wold.  
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	7. Finger on the Trigger

Dean had expected Castiel moving in to the bunker to suck. He expected it to be complicated, and awkward. Maybe even a little annoying. But the thing was… it wasn’t any of that. It felt _right_. At first things had been a _little_ awkward-all by Dean’s doing. He couldn’t stop thinking about the first night that Cas had stayed at the bunker, couldn’t stop thinking about what Cas’ mouth looked like wrapped around his… but none of that mattered anymore. Dean forced it in the closet of his mind and locked the door. It had only been a onetime thing, and it wasn’t going to happen again. His brain had just gotten things mixed up, that was all. 

But once Dean had shoved his thoughts aside and piled a ton of denial on top of them, things were actually pretty… nice. Whenever he and Sam had to do research, Cas was always more than willing to help, and a third set of eyes that belonged to a being who spoke every language known to man sped up things tremendously. Even when Sam and Dean didn't need help, Cas was doing research nonstop. He was always polite, even _sweet_ , to Dean's utter dismay. Cas never failed to compliment Dean’s cooking, even though his angelic taste buds were still fighting to break every flavor down molecule by molecule. He even insisted on doing the dishes every night, even though it only took him a split second to mojo them sparkling clean.

The best part was when Cas agreed to watch movies with Dean. Sam always threw a bitch fit about Dean wanting to watch the same movies over and over, but Cas hadn’t seen _any_ of them. Metatron may have given Cas the ability to understand pop culture references, but one of Dean’s favorite things was quickly becoming the way Castiel’s face lit up when he made the connection between a reference and a scene in a movie. The downside of watching movies with the angel was the same downside as many other situations with him-personal space. Or the lack of. Despite the den having plenty of chairs, couches and recliners, Cas _insisted_ on sitting right next to Dean on the couch. Every. Single. Time. He also always insisted that Dean make popcorn, and so Dean had to deal with seeing Cas suck and lick butter off his fingers during every single movie. Not that the distraction really mattered, because when he wasn’t distracting Dean with his obscene sucking noises, he was distracting Dean with questions, or commenting just how fictitious the movies were (“Cas, it’s just a movie. It doesn’t _have_ to be 100% accurate.”)

So all in all… it was nice having Cas at the bunker. _Too_ nice. It was starting to make Dean uncomfortable that he was so comfortable having the angel around, because he knew it wasn’t permanent. Castiel always left. He always had some sort of angel calling, or some bigger fish to fry. So Dean knew this was all temporary, and to be honest… it fucking bothered him. 

So the more comfortable he got, the shorter with Cas he got, because being angry was better than this soul crushing fear that he would blink and Cas would be gone for good. He found any excuse to yell at the mighty angel of the lord, because he knew they were getting closer and closer, and that only meant it would hurt that much worse when the time came for them to go their separate ways. Cas drank the last cup of coffee without making another pot? Dean yelled. Cas left a book out in the library instead of putting it back on the shelf? Dean yelled. Cas so much as made a sound while Sam was asleep? Dean yelled. It was a never ending cycle that Dean was using to protect himself. But apparently patience was a virtue that God had given the angel plenty of, because his only response was to squint or roll his eyes, or more times than not, ignore Dean completely.  
  


  


They had just gotten done watching the latest Star Trek movie. Dean had made the mistake of telling Cas that he reminded him of Spock, and while Castiel was able to determine who Spock was, he didn’t understand why they were similar since he had never seen any of the movies. Dean had been turning him down to watch it for three days straight, trying to avoid him, but when the angel finally showed up with the dvd in his hand, damn near _pouting_ , Dean caved in and said they could watch it.

“Told ya you are a lot like Spock.” Dean muttered when the credits rolled, stretching his entire body zealously until he heard his back pop. Of course that had caused his thigh to rub up against Castiel’s, the damn angel just had to sit practically on top of him.

“I suppose we do share a few similarities. Did you mean it as an insult? I quite liked Spock.”

Dean smiled “No, Cas. It wasn’t an _insult_. It was just an observation. I like Spock too.”

Cas just nodded. He stood up and grabbed the popcorn bowl from Dean’s lap, and Dean nearly jumped out of his skin when the angel’s knuckles brushed against his thigh. “I’ll clean the popcorn bowl.” Cas stated, his tone matter of fact.

“Just zap it.” Dean mumbled, shrugging. Cas wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I think I will just wash it tonight, Dean.” Before Dean could say anything else, Cas turned on his heel and headed for the kitchen. Dean shook his head. _That weird, dorky little guy gets weirder every day._ And Dean tried to dismiss it, he really did. This was a golden opportunity to distance himself from Cas a little more. He could just go to his room and lock the door, not even bother saying good night. But why the fuck did an angel of the lord want to hand wash dishes?

So Dean, being the hunter that simply could not let things go, got up to follow the angel to the kitchen. Sure enough, Cas was standing in front of the sink, a sponge in one hand, and the popcorn bowl in the other. What the angel didn’t anticipate was that once he turned the bowl over, it caused the water to bounce off and spray everywhere, soaking him and the floor at his feet. Dean took the opportunity to yell, just like he always did nowadays. “Fuck, Cas! For the love of god, watch what you’re doing.” He snapped shortly as he came to stand next to him.

Cas turned his head to glare at him, but there was something a little hurt in his eyes. Dean didn’t apologize. _Good. Maybe if I’m a dick to him, he’ll stop fucking looking at me like he always does, like I’m the most important thing God has ever created._ Cas finished cleaning the bowl and started drying it, his lips pressed in a tight line of annoyance. And like always, Dean caved. “Why are you washing dishes all of a sudden?”

Cas sat the dish down, a disgruntled sigh escaping from his lips. “If I choose to leave heaven, I’ll be cut off from its heavenly grace. I’ll still have my own grace, but it’ll be significantly weaker. There is a chance the other angels won’t allow me to return to replenish it.” Dean just listened and nodded, hoping Cas would continue. “I should get used to doing things without my grace so I can save it for times when it’s really needed, Dean.”

Dean suddenly felt overwhelmingly guilty. “You don’t have to leave heaven, Cas. Maybe the other angels are right. Maybe you should stay away from me.” Cas shook his head firmly.

“They’re not right about you, Dean. They never are.” He looked up, his soft, blue eyes searching Dean’s. Dean swallowed and licked his lips. “It’s not just about you.” Cas added. His eyebrows were furrowed, leaving deep creases across his forehead. Dean knew that look. It was the one that Cas always got when his own thoughts or emotions confused him, and he had no idea how to place how he was feeling.

“Cas… I’m not worth all of this. So if this is just about me, you can’t… you can’t do it. You constantly give up everything for me, and for what? For your grace to be weakened? For the other angels to treat you like shit? You would be better off in heaven with them. Hell, you’d be better off _anywhere_ that’s not with me.”

“Are you saying all of this because you want me to leave?” Dean’s heart shattered into a million pieces. Castiel was giving him the same exact look he had when he had kicked him out of the bunker as a human, when Gadreel had made Dean pick between him saving his brother, or Cas leaving. No angel should look that sad, that vulnerable and betrayed.

Dean put his hand on Cas’ shoulder reassuringly. “No, I don’t want you to leave again, Cas. Not ever. You hear me?” And maybe Dean should have said yes, maybe he should have been a dick and casted him out again. Because at least this time he was still an angel, and a part of him knew that as long as Cas was here, as long as Dean cared about him, he was in danger. Because Dean wasn’t allowed to have this, he wasn’t allowed to have simple luxuries such as friendship without someone getting hurt.

But the angel didn’t look convinced. His sparkling blue eyes were still wide and hurt, his eyebrows still tented in confusion, wondering what he had done wrong. “C’mere, you stupid angel.” Dean said, pulling him into a hug. A surprised huff of air escaped Cas at first, but he eventually hugged Dean back. Dean heard someone clear their throat. Dean immediately dropped his arms and turned to find Sam smiling at them. Dean wanted to say something to him, but the smile on Sam’s face wasn’t teasing or snarky, and so he let it slide.

“So get this, some teens have went missing in Bear Creek, North Carolina. Sounds like it might be our sort of thing.” Sam had been carrying his laptop and sat it down on the kitchen table.

“Teens go missing all the time. What makes this different?” Dean asked, heading over to the laptop. Castiel politely finished drying off the popcorn bowl.

“Well there’s this place…” Sam clicked a picture to enlarge it. “It’s known as ‘The Devil’s Tramping Ground’. It’s a circle about forty feet all the way around, and nothing will grow there. The soil has been tested, but the PH balance seems to be fine. No one can explain it. Apparently pets, such as dogs, will struggle to get away if they’re brought near the circle, and supposedly, any objects left in the circle overnight disappear. So naturally, teenagers feel the need to get drunk and investigate-”

“And end up going missing.” Dean finished Sam’s thought. Dean groaned. “Sounds like a Tulpa, doesn’t it?”

Sam grimaced. “It does. And you want to know what makes matters worse?”

“Not really. But tell me.”

“Well as you know, Tulpas are manifested by people focusing on an idea, or in this case, the lore.” Dean tensed. Based on the name of the area, he didn’t even want to hear about the lore. “The legend says that the reason nothing grows in the circle is because the devil himself paces in that very circle whenever he’s thinking, or plotting the destruction of the world.”

Dean bent over to bang his head against the table a few times dramatically. When he lifted his head, he saw that the conversation had officially grabbed Castiel’s attention. Dean looked back over to Sam. “So you’re telling me that we could be dealing with some sort of manifestation of Lucifer?”

“Not exactly.” Cas butted in before Sam could answer. “The way you see Lucifer is as a vessel, the only way you’ve ever seen him. But I don’t believe that the legend that goes with the tramping ground would follow that sort of description. It would follow stereotypical lore.”

“So you’re telling me a big, red guy with horns? Gets off by shoving a pitchfork up people’s asses?” Dean asked. That description honestly didn’t sound much better, though it was probably much safer.

“It’s a possibility.” Cas answered dryly. He looked back and forth between the brothers. “But that wouldn’t make the Tulpa any less powerful. Stereotypical lore about Lucifer still portrays him as an incredibly powerful being. I shall go with you on this hunt. I do not like the sound of it.”

“Neither do I.” Sam agreed, sighing sadly. “Killing a Tulpa is always harder than chopping off a head or stabbing with silver or laying a demon trap.”

“Cas, you should stay here. Especially if you’re trying to save up your angel mojo.” Dean said sternly, using his my-answer-is-final dad voice that Sam rarely heard him use nowadays.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at the hunter. “I am not a child for you to order around, Dean. I’m perfectly capable of joining you and your brother on a hunt.” Dean rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide his annoyance. It was then he realizes that when Cas rolled his own eyes, he had probably picked that up from him, not Sam.

“Fine. But I’m teaching you how to properly shoot a gun.”

“I know how to shoot a gun. I also have my angel blade.”

“No, you know how to shoot a _shot_ gun, and poorly at that. I’m going to teach you to use a handgun before we head out.” Castiel looked a little pissed, and it sent a shiver up Dean’s spin. Something about the angel being wrathful always did that to him, seeing Cas’ disposition change from dorky and socially awkward to towering and terrifying in the blink of an eye. “An angel blade may not cut it this time, buddy.” Dean added, trying to lay a sweet voice extra thick.

Cas huffed a sigh. “I suppose I can allow you to teach me to ‘properly’ use a gun of a different variety before we leave.”

Dean smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be a natural, Cas.”

  


Castiel was a lot of things. An angel of the lord, a warrior of heaven, a skilled and sure badass in hand to hand combat, a righteous and wrathful smiter… but one thing he was not, was a natural at shooting a gun. Dean hadn’t really expected _much_. Cas had only ever used a gun once, when Bobby had given him a shotgun. Shotguns had a wide spray, so Cas hadn’t exactly needed precision to cause a lot of damage. Handguns on the other hand were a little bit more complicated.

Dean and Castiel had been at the shooting range in the bunker for the past hour. Dean was leaned against the wall, giving Cas space to fire. The hunter bit his lip to stop himself from snickering when Cas missed the target _again_. Cas scowled, letting Dean’s favorite gun fall to his side, and Dean felt just a little bad. This was the first time Cas had ever gotten so frustrated over something that wasn’t the far too stubborn asshole currently laughing at him. Dean straightened his facial expression and encouraged the angel to try again.

Castiel lined up on the firing line again, and Dean observed him intently. While Cas’ posture was immaculate, his stance was rigid and stiff, his feet too close together. He raised the gun to eye level, squinting his incredibly blue eyes, and he pulled the trigger, the bullet once again missing his target. Cas let out and furious groan, and Dean felt static in the air like any second from now the angel’s wings were going to flare out behind him angrily. Dean sighed, approaching his friend.

“Cas, you’re doing it wrong.” He kept his voice soft, slightly intimidated by the raw energy coming off of Castiel.

Cas spun to face Dean. “Well Dean, if you would just _show_ me instead of just _standing_ -“ Dean shook his head and pointed at the target. Cas’ shoulders slouched slightly but he reluctantly turned back to the target.

“If you wanna actually hit the target, you gotta do it like this.” Dean reached out, but his hands stopped a few inches from Cas’ hips. He took a deep breath and set his jaw, placing his hands. He rotated the angel gently so that he was perpendicular to the firing line. Cas let himself be moved with no resistance and Dean snatched his hands back. “Okay, now you gotta spread your feet apart more.” Dean slid one of his legs between both of Cas' forcing them to spread wider. “Yeah, like that. Good.” Dean took another deep breath and placed his hands on Cas’ shoulders. “Now your shoulders are WAY too tense. You need to have control but you can’t be so stiff.” Dean slid his hands down Cas’ shoulders and jumped a little because he actually heard the angel let out a content little sigh. Dean shook his head, not letting it distract him. “Alright, now raise the gun.” Dean instructed, his voice cracking a little. He cleared his throat as Cas followed orders, raising the gun and aiming it. Dean licked his lips and held his breath as he lined himself up behind Cas. He placed his hand on the angel’s shoulder, tightening his grip a little to encourage Castiel to relax a little more. His other hand slid along Cas’ dominant arm, his own arm lining up with it as his hand covered Cas’, both of their fingers on the trigger. He could feel the heat of Cas’ body, feel how firm and warm he was against him. Dean felt a little light headed. “Remember, it’s important to breathe.” He muttered in the angel’s ear, aware of the fact that he was also reminding himself. They both inhaled, perfectly in sync, and Dean pulled his trigger finger in. The shot rang out and it was deafening because Dean’s senses were heightened. Cas was staring at the target that now had a fresh bullet hole in it, his expression relaxed and pleased.

“Thank you, Dean.” He said softly, once again lowering the gun and turning to the hunter. He placed the gun on the table in front of them, next to the ammo. “It appears I’m not a very good shot.” Cas’ eyes dropped, a little disappointed. Dean rolled his own eyes. _I don’t know who taught him to pout, but I’m going to strangle them._

Dean placed his arm on Cas’ shoulder gently. “Aw c’mon. Don’t be like that. You’ll get better, it just takes practice. I mean, you’ve had like millions of years of practice with your angel blade. You just started using a gun. It’ll get easier.” Castiel looked up at him, his lips quirking into a little smile. He took his own hand and placed it on the exposed skin of Dean's arm. Dean flinched. It was so intimate. Cas’ hands were cold, and the cool sensation against his burning skin felt nice, but underserved. Something about an angel, something so pure, touching someone as tainted and broken as Dean didn't feel right. Dean swallowed hard. Cas deserved better. He deserved an apology for all the times Dean had fucked up when it came to him. But the words died on Dean’s tongue before they could leave his mouth.

The look Cas was giving him was enough to make his skin crawl. No one had ever looked at Dean the way the angel before him always looked at him. It often reminded him of how Sam looked at him when they were younger, like Dean was the most amazing and awe inspiring person on earth. But it was more. Like he was worth something, like he was _loved_. And Dean hated it. _If he realized just how fucked up I really am, he would never look at me like this again._ Dean thought, finally dropping his eyes from their little staring contest. He cleared his throat. “Um, I think you got the hang of it now. I’ll just leave you to it, okay? Keep practicing as much as you want tonight. We’ll need you in tip top shape to take down that Tulpa.” Dean winked at Cas playfully before leaving him alone at the firing range. The door closed behind him.

Cas picked the gun back up, smirking ever so slightly. He aimed the gun and pulled the trigger, hitting the target in the dead center without any sort of hesitation or trouble. “You’re a good teacher, Dean.” He muttered to himself sarcastically. So yeah, maybe the angel had been faking it a little, and he definitely felt bad about it because it felt a lot like lying to Dean. But there had been this gnawing feeling eating away at the angel lately, a need to be _touched_. It had never been something he had experienced until he had become completely human. Touch wasn’t the same for angels. It was rare, usually only exchanged during things like the grooming of wings. Even then it was _different_. It wasn’t like the touch Castiel had experienced because of humans. It was something he had realized the first time Dean had hugged him. Humans liked touch. It could console, reassure, please. And slowly but surely, as an angel, Cas had learned when touch was appropriate, and picked up on the social graces of humanity when it came to touch. He finally understood why humans exchanged the contact, and while he didn’t experience it himself, he partook in it.

But then Castiel fell. And experiencing the contact as a human changed something in him. Kissing April had awoken something within him that he hadn’t experienced as an angel, and even if they wouldn’t have had intercourse, Cas was still sure that it would have changed his perspective of touch. It was comfort like he had have known before, and he fully realized it the first time Dean had touched him as a human. All it had been was a firm touch to his knee as Cas regained consciousness after a Gadreel-possessed Sam brought him back to life. But the feeling of the contact had been so reassuring, so intoxicating that Cas found himself craving it even though he was now an angel again.

And Dean seemed to have no issue touching Cas, or letting Cas touch him. It was usually just a pat on the arm, or a touch of the shoulder. But sometimes Cas would get lucky, sometimes Dean would actually embrace him, and it was something the angel found himself guiltily craving.

Castiel found himself smiling. Thinking about Dean had the tendency to make him do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Destiel hugs are my favorite. <3  
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> Also, The Devil's Tramping Ground is a real place.  
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> The lore about it in this fic is really the lore that the locals share.
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> For those of you that can't remember, the only time we've seen Cas use a gun (Other than the endverse Cas) is when Bobby gave him a shotgun when they went to take down the Leviathans.  
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	8. Dream On

After about 1,200 miles and 19 hours on the road, Dean finally passed the “Welcome to North Carolina” sign, and he felt like he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Of course he had insisted that they not stop, and make the trip in one go. Despite switching off with Sam to drive on two separate occasions, Dean was still running on too few cups of coffee and fumes. He really wished Sam would have found this case before they had left from Virginia. 

Sam had his eyes closed, his head rested against the window of the Impala. He had his iPod in his hand with earbuds crammed in his ears. Dean couldn’t exactly blame him, the older brother did have the habit of listening to the same tapes over and over again. _At least I don’t listen to Lady fucking Gaga._ So maybe that’s not what Sam was listening to. _But that seems like something that loser would listen to._

Dean glanced in the review mirror. Cas had been quiet most of the ride, and though Dean didn’t mean for it to, it had really started to worry him. The angel was staring out the window, his eyes squinted at a cow pasture. He hadn’t said anything in _hours_. Dean couldn’t help but wonder if this was him pouting because Dean had refused to let him zap all three of them and the Impala to Bear Creek. Dean was pretty sure that would take a pretty large chunk of angel mojo, and now that he knew Cas’ powers were going to end up getting weaker, he couldn’t take that chance. Especially since they might need all the angel grace they could get their hands on to deal with a Tulpa that was manifesting as the devil.

“You’re quiet, Cas.” Dean finally commented gruffly. He couldn’t wait to finally pull into the town of Bear Creek, even his voice sounded tired. For a long moment, the angel didn’t respond.

“I’ve been listening to this song. I… rather enjoy it.” He finally responded, turning his head to the front of the car as his big blue eyes flickered to the review mirror to meet Dean’s green ones.

“Yeah?” Dean said excitedly, reluctantly pulling his eyes back in front of him. “You do?” Dean normally would have pointed out that he meant Castiel had been quiet most of the drive, not just in the past few minutes, but _Cas just said he liked a Led Zeppelin song._ “It’s called ‘Fool in the Rain’. It’s by the band Led Zeppelin.”

Cas thought for a second. “That’s your favorite band.” He finally responded.

Dean felt himself blush slightly, not expecting Cas to remember that. He kept his eyes firmly on the road. “Yeah, it is. Uh, this might be a weird question, but do you have one? You know, a favorite band, or artist? Do you even listen to music?”

“I enjoy all music. It’s one of my favorite things that humanity has created.” The angel’s eyes had returned to the field when Dean finally glanced back at him again.

“Oh. That’s cool, I guess.” Dean checked his mirror again.

Cas scrunched up his nose. “But I suppose I have… preferences. I enjoy your music more than I enjoy Sam’s. He’s currently listening to a woman who keeps talking about her poker face.”

 _I fucking knew he listened to Lady Gaga. I just knew it!_ Dean laughed. “Yeah? Sounds like you like the older stuff better. You know, I have a record player and some records back at the bunker. If you ever want to, you can listen to them. Any of them. Uh, all of them if you want to. I just want you to make yourself at home, Cas.” Dean knew he wasn’t keeping his eyes on the road nearly as much as he should, but he couldn’t help but look back at the angel again as he was talking, and when he said the word ‘home’, he caught the angel looking back at him almost shyly.

Cas looked back out the window again quickly. “Thank you, Dean.” His voice radiated gratitude, and Dean felt his heart warm a little as much as he hated it. Before Dean forced his eyes back to the asphalt in front of him, he saw Cas’ lips quirk up and his eyebrows shoot up in excitement. He pointed out the window, the tip of his index finger leaving a smudge on the window. Dean flinched a little. “That is a very fluffy cow.” Castiel commented, clearly incredibly pleased by his find.

Dean snorted, unable to hide the huge grin that spread across his face. So maybe the way Cas got excited over unexpected animals was a little cute. “I’m pretty sure you’ve seen plenty of cows in your gazillion years of existence, buddy.”

“Yes, but that one is _particularly_ fluffy.” Cas’ voice was absolutely fascinated, turning his head to continue looking at the cow as they drove past it.

“Yeah, they have the tendency to get pretty fluffy this time of year. It’s getting cold, they gotta stay warm. It's almost the end of November.” Dean’s grin widened.

This was one of Dean’s favorite things about Castiel. He loved and appreciated every single one of God’s creations, right down to the extra fluffy cow that was currently grazing in North Carolina. It was damn right _endearing_. The other angels constantly had something negative to say about Cas, constantly commenting that he wasn’t good at being an angel, or wasn’t good enough to be one. Dean thought they had it completely backwards. Castiel was the _best_ angel. His fondness for all of the things his father created was what made him special. It was what made him Cas, made him _Dean’s_ Cas.

 _Okay, so maybe referring to him as mine is a little weird._ Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Good thing you like cows, Cas. You’re gonna be seeing plenty of them in this state.”

  


The Winchesters were back to staying at cheap, seedy hotels, but Dean couldn’t care any less. He flopped down on the stained, springy bed fully clothes, and immediately closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply but immediately regretted it, his nostrils filling with the scent of dust, and stale cigarettes, regardless of the no smoking sign on the outside door.

“G’night, Dean.” Sam mumbled from his own bed.

“Get some sleep, Sammy.” Dean muttered back. And as Dean began to slowly sink into sleep, he was suddenly incredibly grateful for Castiel. While Dean and Sam slept, the angel had offered to sit quietly in a corner of the room and research Tulpas all night so that the brothers wouldn’t have to wake up earlier than necessary to do the research themselves. He wasn’t sure if Cas had offered so that he wouldn’t be bored while they slept, or because he knew how tired they were… but it was sweet. Dean fell asleep with a little smile on his face.

 

“Dean. Dean! Wake up.” Dean jerked awake, Castiel’s hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. “You were having another nightmare.” Dean groaned sleepily. This nightmare hadn’t been about hell. Those dreams were always excruciatingly detailed, more like memories. This nightmare had been about getting incredibly drunk and sticking a needle in his arm. Dean shuddered, fighting to keep his eyes closed. Maybe he could just fall back asleep. The feeling of Cas’ hand left his shoulder, and a few moments later, he felt the bed shift. He immediately jerked wide awake and flipped over, to find Castiel sitting in bed next to him.

“Don’t be weird, Cas.” Dean groaned sleepily, looking up at the angel. He had taken his trench coat and suit jacket off and rolled up his sleeves since Dean had fallen asleep. He had also loosened his tie, and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. Dean swallowed. Hard.

Cas just rolled his eyes, turning a page in his book. Dean squinted, and just made out it was titled ‘Tulpas: Believing is Seeing’. “I want to be here in case you have another nightmare.” The angel replied, like sharing a bed with another guy wasn’t fucking weird.

Dean let out a whining noise, but didn’t protest any further, knowing it was a lost cause. “How are you reading? It’s dark.”

Cas glanced down at Dean momentarily, muttering the word “angel” before returning his eyes to the page his was on. Dean watched him carefully through the dark, his eyes adjusting just enough to pick up on the blue in Cas’ eyes.

“Whatever…” he muttered, closing his eyes. He was too tired to try to wrap his head around how infinitely amazing Cas’ abilities could be. He thought he heard Cas whisper ‘sweet dreams’ as sleep pulled him back under.

  


Castiel finished the book on Tulpas and quietly sat it on the cheap, peeling nightstand next to the bed. He cracked his knuckles, a habit he had developed from time to time after watching the Winchesters do it if they had kept their hands in the same position for a long time. He shifted one of his legs, crossing it over the other. It made the bed move, and caused Dean to stir. The hunter made a sound of protest, and Cas froze. He looked down at Dean, curiously observing him. He uncrossed his legs, the movement once again getting a reaction out of Dean. This time, he shifted closer to Cas, and threw an arm across the angel’s lap. Castiel froze again, his blue eyes shot wide.

He knew this wasn’t really Dean. This was an asleep, possibly even dreaming Dean. Cas went to gently crawl out of bed without waking him, but he moment he moved, Deans fingers curled around his thigh and he snuggled against Cas’ leg. Castiel sighed softly. It felt… _nice_ having Dean curled up next to him like this. As if Dean could read his thoughts, he was scooting even closer, until finally he draped one of his legs around one of Cas’. Cas felt his face flush, and debated zapping into the chair on the other side of the room, but then Dean let out a content sigh in his sleep, and the angel didn’t have it in him to leave him.

 _Maybe Dean likes this. Maybe he finds himself craving touch as well._ Castiel scrunched his nose up. Denial. That was what this feeling was. He was trying to justify this, convince himself that it was okay because _he_ wanted it. He glanced over at Sam’s sleeping form guiltily, a part of him afraid that Sam would wake and call him out for how wrong it was that he continued to stay there as Dean clung to him. _Perhaps Sam wouldn’t care._ Cas shook his head and started peeling himself away from Dean again, fully willing himself to break the physical connection.

“Cas...”

Castiel didn’t move another inch. “…Dean?” He called back nervously, his voice quiet.

Dean didn’t reply again for a moment before calling Cas’ name out again, followed by sleep slurred, unintelligible words, confirming that the oldest Winchester was still asleep. It completely threw Cas off. Dean was completely asleep, and yet he still called out to him, and it wasn’t even because of a nightmare. It was because he was finding comfort in Castiel’s presence, even if it was in his unconscious state. Cas swallowed hard. He wasn’t reasonable enough or strong enough to deprive Dean of this, to deprive _himself_ of this. So instead, he relaxed into the cheap, worn out mattress, relaxed into Dean’s embrace.

  


Sam Winchester had seen his big brother in quite a few incriminating circumstances in all of their years together, but none quite like the one he came across a few hours later.

Sam had immediately rolled over to check on Dean once he woke up. It was a habit that both the brothers had, their first instinct when they woke up was to always make sure that the other was okay. What Sam had not expected as to find his brother completely wrapped around a very confused, awkward looking angel.

Sam pushed his hair out of his face and then rubbed his eyes. When he blinked (hard), Dean was still snuggled up against Cas when his eyes opened again. A smirk immediately spread across the younger Winchester’s lips. He slowly and quietly took his phone off the nightstand and snapped a quick photo, immediately texting it to his email since they never kept burners for long. The quality wasn’t great, but it was more than enough for black mail. Sam went to clear his throat, but then he noticed how Castiel was looking at Dean. Even though the angel didn’t seem comfortable in the least bit, he didn’t seem to care. He was looking at Dean like he was the most fascinating thing on the entire planet. His big, blue eyes scanned Dean’s face slowly, and if Sam didn’t know any better, he would swear that Cas was counting each freckle on Dean’s face, his lips lifting into a smile a little more with each one.

“Uh, Cas?” Sam finally spoke quietly, sitting up in bed. Castiel immediately tensed up, his eyes widening and shooting up in Sam’s direction. Sam gave him a sympathetic smile. “Is there a particular reason you’re in bed with Dean?” Sam’s own eyes suddenly widened “Um, I mean, unless it’s for uh- are you guys- I guess what I’m trying to say is-“

“Dean was having another nightmare. I wanted to be close by in case I need to wake him again.” Cas looked down at Dean. “I think he was having another dream and he… just ended up like this.”

“Oh!” Sam was shocked that he suddenly felt a little disappointed. If they were _together_ then a lot that went on between them would make a hell of a lot more sense.

“I think he may be dreaming again. He occasionally says my name, and his hips have been stirring quite a bit.” The angel stated innocently, his eyes flickering down to notice Dean grind against his leg ever so slightly.

Sam blanched. “Uh, yeah… um… I think he’s dreaming alright… I-I’m going to go get some breakfast.” He stood up so quickly that he almost got tangled in the bedsheets, forgetting he was completely clothes.

“Sam… should I have… gotten up when he did this?” Cas looked up at him. He was all sad, blue, confused eyes.

“Did you want to?”

“No.”

“Then I think you’re fine, Cas.”

“Then why are you leaving so quickly? I can sense that you’re feeling very awkward.”

Sam glanced down at his sleeping brother, making a face a pure disgust when he saw his brother’s hips move against Cas again. A breathy, quiet moan escaped Dean’s lips, and Sam wanted to jump out the window. “Because I am _not_ going to explain a wet dream to you, and I am _not_ going to be here when Dean wakes up. I’ll be gone for at least an hour, okay? In case you guys… never mind. I’ll grab you and Dean some breakfast too. See you in a bit, Cas.” Sam ducked out of the hotel before Cas could even reply, leaving the angel even more confused.

  


Dean sighed contently, somewhere between consciousness and sleep. Someone was in bed with him, and they were warm and soft and smelled _amazing_. The hunter was so comfortable, inhaling the scent deeply, reveling in the way that it felt to be pressed against the other body… especially certain parts of him. He was almost painfully hard, his jeans constricting his erection from where he had fallen asleep in them the night before. But whenever his hips would move, his hard cock would rub up against the other person. He did it again, and it pulled a small moan from his lips.

“Dean.”

Hearing his name said in a familiar, gruff voice had him thrusting his hips again, pleasure shooting through his body. But then consciousness crept up on him further, and realization slowly dawned on him. He was in Bear Creek, North Carolina. In a shitty motel. On a cheap, most likely soiled bed. Next to a very warm, soft, delicious smelling angel.

Dean had never shot up in bed so fast in his life. “WHAT THE FUCK, CAS.” The abrupt movement was something Dean’s sleepy brain couldn’t quite process, and he fell out of bed with a loud thud.

Cas shimmied over to the side of the bed that Dean had been lying on, and peered down at him with worried eyes. “Are you okay, Dean?”

“Am I okay?! No, I’m not okay! Two dudes don’t just share a bed all night, Cas!”

Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean. Dean stood up, uncomfortable trying to reposition himself in his jeans while being subtle about it. Apparently he wasn’t subtle enough, because Cas’ eyes were immediately drawn to his crotch. The angel actually _blushed_. He quickly adverted his eyes and muttered “You seemed to have enjoyed it.”

Dean’s mouth fell open, and he gaped at Cas. “I-what do you-it’s not what you think-it’s fucking involuntary!” He stammered. “Sometimes that shit randomly happens when we sleep! I can’t control it!”

Cas looked completely unamused. “What about saying my name? Could you control that?”

Dean had never felt his face grow hotter in his entire life. “Oh wow, shut the fuck up, Cas.” He snapped angrily. Cas just rolled his eyes, crawling out of bed and smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt.

He knew Dean well enough to know that this conversation wasn’t going anywhere, and seeing Dean’s own arousal had his vessel suddenly feeling a little hotter than he would like. “Sam went to get us breakfast.” He said distractedly.  
  
Dean slapped his hand to his forehead and then pinched the bridge of his nose. _Fuck… I didn’t even think about Sam seeing us… that’s going to be a fun conversation he’s not going to let me avoid._ “Uh, cool.” He forced himself to relax a little and change the subject. “You ready to take down this Tulpa?”

Cas’ face suddenly looked pained. “Actually, the more I read about it, the more I would prefer for you and Sam to stay behind and let me take care of it. I realize that it probably won’t manifest as Lucifer himself, but I still think this is far too dangerous and I do not wish for you and your brother to be in that kind of danger.”

Dean observed Cas’ earnest expression, his chest tightening a little bit. Castiel didn’t want him and Sam to be in that kind of danger, but was willing to throw himself in it. “No way, man. We’ll do this together. Just like we always do. Team Free Will, remember?” Cas smiled a little, and Dean grinned back. “We wouldn’t let you do this alone, buddy. Besides, this Devil’s Tramping Ground has got me pretty interested. Usually all of the leads we get in North Carolina end up being local tall tales. But I feel like this one is gonna be pretty serious.” Cas nodded. “Let's kick this Tulpa's ass.” Dean added playfully.

“Of course Dean. I just have one question.”

“Yeah, okay. What is it, Cas?”

“What’s a wet dream?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever sense Cas got excited about the guinea pig in Supernatural, I sorta have this head canon that he gets all cute and excited over animals, and it's because he's so fascinated with his father's creations. They're all works of art to him.
> 
>   
>   
> Like he gets SO serious like "Where is the fucking guinea pig Samuel give it to me" lmao.
> 
> But seriously, since it is my head canon that that's the Cas sees life, can you imagine what he sees when he looks at Dean? He sees God's greatest creation, the righteous man, the man that _he_ was called to save. The one that taught him how to feel human emotions. The one that made him fall in love with humanity.  
>  And he has absolutely no idea what Dean sees when he looks at him.  
>   
>   
> 
> 
> And here's a bonus of sleepy Dean.  
>   
>   
> 


End file.
